


Twisted Wonderland - Part 3

by Editor1



Series: Twisted Wonderland [4]
Category: Alice In Wonderland - Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Related Fandoms, American McGee's Alice, Original Work
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Are We The Baddies?, Blow Jobs, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Coming of Age, Cunnilingus, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Fisting, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, I'm sorry I just have plans, Incest, Insanity, It's more plot than porn at this point, M/M, Madness, Masochism, Mind Break, Murder, Painplay, Painslut, Pedophilia, Politics, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Public Sex, Rape, Sex Slavery, Starvation, Submission, Threesome, Underage Sex, breath play, slavery is legal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2020-05-13 15:58:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 24
Words: 134,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19254424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Editor1/pseuds/Editor1
Summary: Alice died, Wonderland's fucked, and everyone seemed to collectively decide debauchery and ignorance on their dying world was more fun. Now the land is ruled by nepotism and vice. Slavery, evil rulers, disappearing magic, the whole nine yards. Slow burn series filled with porn and political intrigue and that delicious Wonderland spice.Quill grows up thinking he is at the top of the food chain. That all changes when his father finds out about him and his cousin's illicit affair.Margret grows up knowing the debauchery and heartache of Wonderland. Her brother is the only thing that keeps her going. Until it isn't.Will intersect eventually with Benji and Hatter but don't worry about that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, probably should have started with this story and then moved onto Hatter and Benji's story. Ah well. 
> 
> This began as a fanfiction of Alice: Madness Returns. It morphed into its own thing years ago, and now the only connection it has with that, is the idea of Wonderland being corrupted, and the Cheshire cat being similar. At this point, it's basically original work. I've been taking more stuff from the original book than the video game lately. 
> 
> So this entire series is planned out. I'm thinking about 6-7 books. Porn kind of drops off at the end due to character development (or is it repression? either way). I know a lot of people are here to see people get fucked. Promise, it happens later. If you wanna stick around for the story, I appreciate it greatly. If you just want the porn, it comes back, don't worry. 
> 
> Comments keep me motivated, but I'll write this all out regardless, even if it kills me. 
> 
> Planning on trying to get this published into an actual series, one day. Less porn, obviously.

The world is terrible. It’s filled with rot, a stagnation that permeates the very core of its being. There’s nothing but sex, drinking, drugs, and every other hedonistic vice one can think of. No matter where one looks, someone is trying to use the very problem to get away from its symptoms, and visit a softer, sweeter place. The source of it all, is the Royals. 

The Queen, who lives in majesty over a Capital flush with debauchery and sin. She enjoys a lavish life with all the food, righteous violence, and fearful respect she could ask for. Her castle sits on a hill above it all from where she offers no law but that of against murder. The death of another Wonderlander, or human. Even that is such a quaint superfluous law. The one thing that one could use to gain traction and shock the others out of their stupor is outlawed. And for that, I would almost admire her sly intelligence, if it weren’t for the way she had ruled her country into the muddy ground. It’s through her negligence that the world is a cesspool, that slavery is rampant, that rape goes unchallenged and that no one bothers to ask as to why. But she is not the only cause. 

The King, who lives in the north against a sheer wall of mountain, looking down over his terrified people and grinning. He’s a mysterious, savage figure that installs his own laws and enjoys especially the suffering of others. Of course, he would never kill, no, that would go against the Queens’ wishes. And he loves his sister, of course, if the rumors are true. The Royals agree to work with each other as long as they may have their own dominion. So the King skirts around the Queens’ trivial law against murder. Torture, inevitable death, that isn’t murder. It is retribution for what the criminal has obviously done to taint the Kings’ good standing. That can never go unpunished. The torture chamber is hidden away in his palace, but if one has the right eye, one may end up descending those limestone stairs and edging towards the scent of blood and death. But even he at least acknowledges his people. 

The Lord, who lives in the splendor of eternal harvest still manages to be the poorest kingdom of them all. Why is that? His cowardice. The Lord himself is elusive to the point of nonexistence. He spends his days in his room being waited on hand and foot by nobility and humans alike. An immortal being so careful and feigning such sickness is enough to make my stomach roil. He spends his days enjoying the internal world of his palace and never once has seen the light of day in recent memory. Whatever poaching his human subjects may suffer, whatever fear of death and sickness the Lord nobles themselves may have, he turns a blind eye. He can not be affected by the plague, but he would certainly hide away until it was over regardless. The only thing he could possibly care about is whether food will still appear on his plate, and whether there are any young boys left for him to fuck. 

Which brings us to the Duchess. Living far, far away from the other three countries, across the Wonderland Forest and in the eternal winter that all other nobles dread, she sits at her throne and watches. She sees the stagnation, the world’s literal decay as the trees turn a sick green and the undergrowth fades to black. And she merely watches. She watches, and she waits, for the day that something will happen. That someone will come. That Alice will return, perhaps. Anyone who would invest their time in a storybook is mad. But then, aren’t we all? Mad? 

I’m certainly mad, for what I am about to do. 

Because here I am, about to kill them all. The Queen, the King, the Lord, perhaps even the Duchess. Kill them all, if it will destroy the stagnation that infects our precious Wonderland. All for a girl. A girl that tried to kill me. 

This is my twisted story.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, after the teaser, it's here in all its crazy glory! 
> 
> Quill and Margret will share this story. It will alternate between them. I'll put any sex warnings ahead of the chapter.

QUILL

I sprinted down the hall lined with yellow tapestries bordered in brown and black, then stopped abruptly against a potted plant, and listened. The sound of footsteps around me was normal. Servants dressed in the simple restrained garb of a slave passed by constantly, giving the occasional strange look in my direction. Hair the color of straw, freckled with bold yellow eyes shining with mischief, I suppose I looked out of place among the regular meek and mild Lord nobility. I wasn’t about to cower behind a girl, or shuffle quietly along to my studies. I paid no mind to their looks. They were slaves and nothing more, they’d never dare to bother me. 

But then I heard it. The scuffled noises of a run trying to hide itself. It was nearly there. A few more feet around the corner, and I’d have to break out to the nearest hiding spot again and hope he wouldn’t be able to catch me. His step slowed, sped up, then slowed again. He was trying so hard to be quiet, but the stone flooring of the castle could never hide the light steps of someone running about with such a strange uneven purpose. The chatter of the nobles passing by in the hallways didn’t hide it either, even if he thought it did. I could hear him trying to move faster when the laughter picked up. Even so, he was close. Achingly close. My heart was beating too fast to breathe. I’d have to take off again. Just one more step…

I gasped when a hand gripped my mouth tightly to keep me from screaming. A larger form pulled itself against me, and my eyes whirled around to see the girl that was three years older and a head taller than I was. She’d never let me forget it either. Jillians’ pale golden eyes glinted, and she tightened her grip. She smirked at my reaction. 

“No screaming,” she warned quietly. “Or Lod will hear you.” Golden locks flowed down her back in a silvery sheen near to her waist. She’d forgone the hair tie today in favor of a wild look. I would have kept it back, it was too easily noticed when she was running. It was probably her speed that had kept her from getting caught yet. All the same, I nodded faintly, and went back to listening to the footsteps with growing apprehension. They grew stronger, then paused, then faded away as they turned a different direction. Those footsteps were drowned out by the walking of servants and slaves, and then I knew we were safe. If not even I could hear it, then he was long gone in another direction. I sighed in relief, and slumped back into my cousins’ arms. She let go of my mouth and wiped her hand on side of her dull yellow embroidered dress for good measure. 

“Did you have to take my hiding spot?” I demanded. “The castle’s big enough.” 

“If it was up to you alone, you would have been caught five minutes ago. I’m saving your bloody behind, you know.”

“I don’t need saving!” She pinched my cheek, and I rubbed it with a grumble. 

“Whatever,” she dismissed. “I’m here now, so be quiet. Lod will come back if you keep nattering on. At least, he might. I’m not sure with him. She ducked her head around to watch the larger hallway. “He went in one of the servant quarters, now.” She grinned. “Maybe I’m wrong. We might last till dinner.” 

“That’s no way to talk about Lod,” I scoffed. Sure, Lod might have had a difficult time of it, but he was still my cousin. And when he smiled or followed me around and did what I wanted, I couldn’t help but like him. He was malleable, but not in a way that I would ever take advantage of.

My mind was wandering again, and I pinched my arm.

Jillian never bothered to go easy on her little brother, because she could never get passed the ‘little’ part. But if Lod wasn’t Lod, then I wouldn’t trust him as much as I did. “He just isn’t used to being the one seeking. You keep volunteering all the time, you think either of us would be as good as you?” 

“If you two ever bothered to learn the layout of the castle past the kitchens and noble quarters, maybe you wouldn’t keep getting lost and hopeless all the time.”

“It’s not exactly easy to memorize something as big as the castle!” 

“I can do it.” She crossed her arms with that condescending smirk she always wore. “You’re both just useless. It’s so annoying when I end up finding you two blubbering because you’ve been stuck on the second floor of the storage quarters for the past hour wandering in circles. You can’t even seem to remember how you ended up in a room, that’s just sad. Although, it’s kind of funny.”

“We don’t blubber…” 

“I’ve seen you cry before. And Lod definitely cries, you can’t deny that. He’s my baby brother, but he’s a baby first. You two were born in this castle. The fact that you can’t even figure out where things are boggles my mind.” 

“If we went seeking more instead of you hogging it all the time, maybe we’d learn more about it.” 

“I don’t think you could learn if you studied the blueprints for the next three months.” She paused, then hissed. “Okay shut up he’s coming back out.” 

“But you were the one talking!” 

“Shut up, I said!” 

“You shut up!” 

“You shut up!” 

“Jill? Quill?” Lod stared at Jillian and I currently in the midst of slapping each other. The boy with cropped pale hair and paler eyes seemed tentative as he tilted from foot to foot, entirely unsure as to how he had caught us so easily. His lost and confused expression had me faltering for a second. I couldn’t form thoughts when he was so sheepish like that. 

I froze, then gave a tentative grin. 

“Pretend you didn’t see me?” I offered. “It’s Jills’ fault, blame Jill.” 

“But you’re right there… Should we try again? Maybe I didn’t give you enough time…” 

Jillian deflated with a groan, then walked over to clap Lod on the shoulder. “Okay. That’s it. I give up. I’ll go seeking again. Both of you are absolutely terrible at this game when you’re not together.”

“She was the one that gave the game away,” I grumbled to Lod as Jillian found the nearest unclaimed hall column to knock her head against and start counting. He smiled that classic simple, dimpled smile, and nodded his head understandingly. I pinched myself again. 

“It’s fine, we’re better together, right? We’ll beat her for sure this time. And we won’t get lost.” He lowered his head nervously. “We won’t get lost, right?” 

“It’s better if we do.” I lowered my voice, and pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt. “If we find a spot that not even we know, then Jillian probably won’t know it well either, right?” I grinned. “We just have to think even more craftily than her, and we can win.” 

“That’s a terrible idea,” he mumbled. 

“No it’s not. It’s a perfect idea. We’ll never be able to win if we stick to the places she knows we know, right? She’s older, she gets to go to all the meetings and knows where everything is. We never get to go anywhere other than tutoring, so there’s a handicap. There’s always going to be one if we don’t break out of our comfort zone.” 

“I’m going to end up having to cry for Jillian to pick me up again, aren’t I…” 

“Hey!” Jillian called back from her column. “I’m going to start counting to forty, so you two better get hiding, alright?”

“Alright!” I said over my shoulder, then whispered to Lod. “Just follow me.” I took his hand in mine and held tight. The two of us started running just as Jillian began to count. “This way!” 

We ran past brightly lit golden archways that sailed above us and adult nobles alike, beautifully inlaid mosaic walls and oil paintings, and baskets of freshly picked flowers on every corner. The corridors were filled with nobles on the first floor. They sported all shades of yellow in their hair as they chatted amongst themselves about the weather, the harvest, the economy, and other trivial matters that neither Lod nor I ever cared for outside of tutoring. Their hair, eyes and clothing were a sea of every shade of yellow imaginable, from a dull ruddy brown to faintest platinum. Accents of blue and green weren’t uncommon either, though they did represent a striking message. Someone who did not wear the Courts’ colors in the Courts’ very castle was either rebellious, or clueless, my father would always say. But everyone got sick of yellow after a while. Even I wore a deep green vest today, with trousers that were a silvery grey instead of brown. Lod thought it would look good on me, and he was right. I got the occasional looks in my direction as the splash of exotic color was certainly something eye-catching, but nothing more. I was little more than a child, I doubted any would care. If my father saw me, perhaps he might say something. But he wasn’t here, and I was busy enjoying myself. I was the Right Hands’ son anyways. I made the rules, I didn’t have to follow them. 

Lod and I were rampant in the castle, sprinting every which way through the crowds of human servants bringing food and water to the chambers of Lord nobles, and returning to the kitchens. Briefly the two of us could smell freshly made pasties as one of the cook slaves passed us by with a heaping tray. I lost the game for a moment, pausing in the middle of the hall with my hand raised to pilfer a few, but a quick tug from Lod brought me back to my senses. If Jill was Jill, then she would probably cheat us out of half the time she said she’d given us. We had no time to steal steak pasties, even if it did smell like the best thing ever created. Our hiding spots would be limited. 

I could breathe easily when we made it to the third floor of the monolithic building. The two of us paused for a moment to catch our breath, and only then did I let go of Lod’s hand. His pale yellow hair stuck up patches from the sweat and sharp turns, and his face was almost as red as mine felt. When I started up again to carefully examine our possible hiding opportunities, he lagged behind. He might have been as strong as me, but he always preferred staying in the kitchens to swimming in the pond that took up the majority of the gardens. I didn’t mind.

As we wandered the passageway, I began to realize that I’d done exactly what I’d set out to do. We’d never been in this part of the castle before, and it looked like quite a few hadn’t either. It was quieter here, probably used for storage of old furniture that was in need of cleaning and fixing. The braziers were still lit, and there was still a bouquet of tulips on a side table at the end of one corner of the hall, but the tapestries were old and dusty. The stone flooring was in need of a good scrub, and probably had been for the past few years. Lod and I both peeked through each of the doors that lined the quiet and ancient hall, but found nothing more than a few broken tables and chairs. There was the occasional cupboard, but nothing large enough to fit us.

“This is foolish,” Lord murmured. The further we travelled, the more silent the world became, until the sound of his voice spooked even himself. I could feel the trembling in his hand when I took it again. The fingers were cold and clammy. “We’re going to get hopelessly lost again.” 

“I know where the staircase is,” I reassured him. “We’re not entirely lost. Just a little. But Jillian’s not going to have any idea that we ended up here of all places.” I grinned from ear to ear when I opened one of the doors near the end of the hall, and saw our prize. 

The wardrobe was the perfect size for the both of us. The ornate dark wood on the outside formed roses, the handles accented in the same flowers in varying states of flowering. Surrounding it were older, small cupboards left to rot in disuse for what looked like decades. A few of them were covered by white sheets, but the wardrobe stood out among them, looking as strong and intimidating as a piece of furniture could. Lod followed my sure walk towards the large cupboard with his own small, tentative steps. I pulled on a rose bud and confirmed the size. My grin only widened when I saw the emptiness. A few mothballs, an old blouse, but nothing more. More than enough room to sit inside together.

“This is perfect.” I turned back to Lod, and motioned to it. “Come on. Get in. We can hide in here for a long time.” 

“I don’t like this,” He muttered. “It’s too small and cramped.”

“It’s more than big enough,” I dismissed him, and stepped inside. I turned around in the wardrobe, crossed my legs, then grinned back at him boyishly. He joined me reluctantly. My cousin sat down in the large wardrobe facing the door and stretched out his feet as far as they would go. It wasn’t far, especially as I struggled to close the heavy wooden slabs of the doors. I paid no mind to his arguing as I pulled the doors fully closed with a small creak of the wood rebelling at being touched for the first time in years. He ended up cross-legged as well, and all the more miserable for it.

It was dark. The small crack of light between the doors was the only thing keeping us from total sightlessness, but that wasn’t much of a help. It was still shades of grey and faint yellow in here. I liked it; I was sick of yellow. But I could see Lod’s fearful face at thought of being stuck in here. Lod was afraid of most things. A gentle squeeze from my hand was usually enough to calm him down. We’re safe,” I told him. “And the door isn’t locked. We can get out any time we want.” 

“I don’t like being stuck in something like this,” he murmured. “It feels too small and cramped. Side by side like this, I can’t even stretch anything out. I don’t like it. It’s congesting.” 

“Here.” I moved my body lengthwise, until my legs were brushing his side. I was startled by how close he was when I faced him. I could see his eyes in the dark, shining and wet with possible tears. My heart beat a little faster, but I tried to ignore it. He followed my lead to move and make things more comfortable. Both of us ended up staring at each other in the darkness. I could stretch my legs out, and he could do the same. His shoes pressed faintly against my sides. I rested my hands on his legs. “How is that?” I asked.

“Better…” He said tentatively.

“Good. Let me know if you need to stretch.” I smiled. “I’ll try to move out of the way.”

A minute passed between us. His eyes were dull and dark in the light. Maybe I wasn’t entirely sick of yellow, when the shade didn’t do him justice. Though, I could still see his face. It was as boyish as my own features, to the point that we often used to be mistaken for one another, but he was already starting to grow broader in the chest. He’d outpace me soon enough. There was a faint pang in my stomach. But it was silly. I was fine with that. Even if he did change the way he looked, he was still Lod. We didn’t have to look the same. The nagging thought wouldn’t go away, though, no matter how much I tried to ignore it.

He stared back at me, then ducked his head to the side to gaze out of the small crack. “What are we going to do if Jillian can’t find us? Stay here the whole time?” 

“We’ll wait until dinner, then come back like champions.” I grinned in the darkness. I found myself wiping drool from my mouth. “You can stick it out that long, right?” 

“Maybe we should have grabbed a few of those pasties. Then we wouldn’t have to go back.” 

“We’d have to go to the toilet eventually anyways.” I peered closer at him. His breath was short. Probably from the small hiding place. So easily afraid of everything. “How long do you think you could last?”

“A few hours, maybe? I don’t know. But I don’t like it in here. It’s too dark.” 

“You’re afraid of everything.” I scooted closer to grab his hand. This time he tensed at the touch. He’d never done that before. For a moment, it felt like he was going to pull away. His face was close to mine, almost too close. But then he gripped tighter, and smiled at me.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“Good,” I grinned. “I’ll protect you.” 

The two of us stayed like that for what felt like hours. 

Lod was right, the wardrobe was congesting. The longer we stayed, the warmer it felt. The cold and clammy feeling of holding his hand had changed. It was warm and sticky now, but I dared not let go. I looked over to him, but he was still looking out through the crack of the wardrobe. His eyes were lit up by the faint light. He wore a simple loose blouse, and tighter trousers than me, with boots that reached to his knees. The cuffs of his shirt were buttoned up tightly. I’d helped him pick out the outfit, just as he had done for me. Every day we’d dress each other on the faith that we would make each other look like fools. I had to admit, we’d betrayed each other multiple times. Today I hadn’t, and neither had he. He looked good in a loose shirt. The neck line was low on his body. I looked at the rise and fall of his throat. 

My stomach tightened. I had to resist the urge to let go of his hand. 

“Hey, Lod,” I murmured. 

“Yeah?”

My stomach was churning in knots. “Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be with a girl?” 

He paused, then flushed. “Sometimes.” 

“Do you think their breasts are soft?” I asked tentatively.

“Probably.” 

“And they’re probably really warm.” 

“Well, you’re warm. I think everyone’s warm.” I blinked, then moved closer. 

“Everyone?”

“Now you just sound stupid. Of course everyone is warm. Except for maybe Duchess nobles, I’d wager. Living in the cold is bound to do something to them.” He grinned tentatively, but I simply watched him. 

“What’s kissing like, do you think?” 

“I don’t know. But what’s the point of asking these questions? We’re not of age, it’s not like your father or mine would ever agree to an entertainment girl.” He looked shyly down at his feet. “I don’t like the rules either, but your father is militant about it. And mine always agrees. And I don’t want to have to think about that when I can’t do anything about it.” He pursed his lips, then scratched the back of his neck. “Besides. Jill doesn’t have anybody. Maybe it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” 

“Jillian is too mean,” I argued. “No one wants to be with her anyways. And she’s not much older. She’s just barely of age, but she’s so busy lording over her studies ahead of us that she doesn’t have time to get her snatch wet.” I glanced over at him, then changed the position I was in until we were against each other, nearly shoulder to shoulder. His face might have reddened in the darkness, but I couldn’t tell. I knew my face was hot. It wasn’t from the congestion anymore. Being close to him, when I wasn’t busy thinking of pranks we could play, or places we could get into, when my mind was on something else… 

The position we were in made the wardrobe more uncomfortable to hide in, but Lod didn’t say a word. 

“Hey, Lod.” 

“Yeah?” 

“What if… We kissed?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains: Underage, exhibitionism, femdom, anal sex without preparation, incest, threesome(ish), pain play, serious masochism.

Speechlessly, Lod’s mouth hung open, staring as I defensively ducked my head. My heart was in my throat. I’d made a terrible mistake. 

“I mean-“ I bit my lip. “If we’re not going to be able to do anything until we come of age, then there’s no other way, right? Maybe – it’s stupid. What I said was stupid. Never mind. Stop looking at me like that!” 

“We’re cousins, Quill. You’re like – you’re like my brother!” 

“It’s just so we can say that we had our first kiss!” I said quickly. “What if we go through finding an entertainment girl and we don’t even know how anything works? Like, you don’t know where to put your cock, or we can’t even kiss right. I don’t know how to kiss, do you? No, of course not! We’d be laughingstocks. We wouldn’t be able to show our faces around them. We’d never get to do anything ever again!” 

“I guess… Fair play. But you’re my cousin-”

“What, is a cousin going to give you cooties?”

“But…” He bit his lip. Even in the darkened light, I could see a faint flush on his face now. He was as red as I felt. “I don’t know. You’re a… You’re a boy.” 

“Since when does that matter? I have a mouth. I can kiss you, can’t I?” 

“Yes, but the other stuff, how would that even work?”

I pressed my chest up against his. I could feel his heartbeat, his breath against face, quickening the moment I got closer. 

“I told you, neither of us know how,” I murmured. “And we’re never going to know until we try. It can’t be that different between two guys, can it? There’s still kissing, more than likely. Still… You know, going inside. There’s a… Hole, I suppose…” His heartbeat quickened, and I suppressed a noise in my throat. He was just like me. I thought I had been pushing him, alone in this the whole time. Up until that point, I thought just telling him would make him run right out of that wardrobe, and never talk to me again. 

I should have never doubted him. Lod was Lod. Reliable to the core, and more often than not, thinking the same things I was. 

“Lod.” I blinked at him as I pressed closer. “Do you feel that?”

“Yeah.” His voice was strained. 

“Me too.” I flicked my eyes to his lips. They were wet with salivation in expectancy, just as mine were. “That’s not… That’s not exactly a brotherly feeling, is it?” 

“I don’t know,” he whimpered. “Quill, why do you always have to pull me into weird things?”

“Do you want me to stop?” He buried his head against my hair. 

“No…”

“Let’s just- let’s stop thinking about this.” I gripped his hand tightly. “Do you… You want to try kissing me first? Or should I just go…” 

“I don’t know!” he repeated. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll do it.” I pushed his chin back up, and stared at him. His eyes were wet with tears again. “Why are you crying?” 

“I’m scared.”

I gulped. “Well… Don’t be. I told you I’d protect you.” 

My face grew even hotter as I finally closed the gap. I pressed my lips against his for only a second, but even that was more than enough. I pulled away with my heart beating out of my chest, and waited for… 

I wasn’t sure what. 

“There,” I muttered.

“That… That was it?” He blinked down at me expectantly. 

I flushed to the roots of my hair. 

“Do you want more?” I hesitated. 

He chewed on his lip. “I don’t know… Yes?” 

“Lod, you indecisive bastard.”

This time I didn’t stop. I found my arms twining around his neck, and my mouth pressing harder and harder against his as he struggled to keep up with me. His tongue lapped tentatively at my mouth, and that shock echoed all the way to my groin. I didn’t realize how amazing a tongue could feel until I gasped, and he probed his against my open mouth with a faint moan. I obliged him, feeling the strangeness of it completely fog my senses and licking at his tongue with my own in return. This time, when we pulled away, we were little more than panting messes. 

I hadn’t realized that I managed to sit on his lap until then. The small wardrobe felt a little larger with the two of us occupying the same space. Panting to catch my breath, I let my arms fall from his neck and blinked up at him with a dazed expression. 

“Lod…” 

“Mhm?” He was as out of it as I was. 

“You’re hard,” I whispered. 

A shiver went through his body when I pressed my groin against his. I lay a hand tentatively over the wet patch that had formed in the tight trousers. “No…” He whimpered. “We should probably stop. Before… What if Jillian finds us?” 

“She won’t. I told you, she wouldn’t be able to find us here, she thinks we’re babies.” I looked down at his crotch, flushed at the obvious bulge, then shyly glanced back up to him. “I don’t feel like a baby, do you?” 

“No…” He stuttered. “What do we even do?” 

“Can you shimmy out of your trousers?” I asked. I was already pulling mine down. He was about to do the same, but when I unearthed my own hardon, his body exhaled, and his arm dropped as his eyes focused on me. 

We’d seen each other naked before, it wasn’t anything new. I knew he was bigger than me, but only by the smallest inch. We’d laughed about it before, measuring ourselves and arguing about whether or not it mattered. Always thinking that it wouldn’t in the end, if we satisfied different women. I don’t suppose he ever realized where it could lead. 

I could feel his eyes still on me as I pulled my trousers and pants down to my knees in quick succession. 

“Come on, Lod,” I whimpered. “You have to do the same.” I helped his numb hands fumble for the ties on the tighter clothing, then pealed it back to reveal what I had been pressing up against. It was my turn to break. I’d never seen him at full mast, not this close. Seeing the measurement, rather than hearing it, was another story. He leaked slightly at the tip. I tentatively reached closer, then stopped myself in apprehension. 

“Wow…” I murmured.

“What are you saying wow for?” Lod sheepishly put his hands in front of himself. “Stop staring at me.” 

“You were staring at me before.” I moved closer and pulled his hands apart for good measure. A tremor rippled when the erections touched. I pressed my face against his neck, then chuckled breathily. “It’s not fair. You’re even bigger than me when you’re hard. How did that happen? I thought the measurements were only the slightest difference.”

“I don’t know,” he whimpered. “We’re not the same.”

“We’ve always been the same, Lod,” I purred. 

“I don’t think anyone else in this castle would agree- Ah-“ He gasped as I tentatively tried stroking the two of us together. “What are you doing?” 

“Masturbating the two us. It’s fine, see?” It wasn’t much different than wanking off myself, though I needed two hands to do it. But with Lod there, his breath and his whimpers at the edge of his voice, and the feeling of him in my hand as well as my own growing need, it led to an entirely different experience. The two of us fell silent as I wanked the both of us off. His hips twitched and jerked, and mine struggled to stay still. I couldn’t last for more than a few minutes before I had to stop. I wanted everything, it couldn’t just end with that. He whimpered at the loss of touch, so moved my hips in front of that massive hardon. 

“I know a way for us to do it, together,” I said. Lod’s cock pressed up against my ass in a deliciously sinful way. Through fevered eyes, I peered up at him, and wiped my mouth of drool. 

“I can’t do that.” Lod shook his head adamantly. His cock twitched against me, and he flinched with every movement. “I’d hurt you.” 

“I don’t care.” I leaned up to kiss him again. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does.” He pulled away to look at me earnestly. “You’re my best friend, Quill. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You’re not hurting me,” I said gently. I pushed back against him, and listened to him whimper. “I’ll be okay. I just want you. Please, Lod?”

“Stop iiit…”

“Please?” I begged. The more I spoke, the redder he got, and the harder he twitched against me. “Please, I want to have your cock inside me. You have no idea how much I’d been thinking about you…” I had no idea what I was saying. It felt terrible, I flushed with every word but I couldn’t stop talking. I tugged on the collar of his shirt and whined against his ear. His cock twitched hard. I angled it carefully up against me, until the head was just there pressed against my entrance. The heat was driving my mind numb. It was almost there. “Do you have any inkling of how many times I’d wanted to do this?” 

“Quill, please…”

“Every time we’ve bathed together, every time we’ve slept in the same bed…”

“Me… Me too,” Lod whimpered. 

“Please… Brother. Fuck me,” I whispered against his ear.

“Shut up!” He snapped. He’d flushed down to his shoulders. “Just do it! Please!”

I didn’t need to be told twice. My hips went down slowly, and an immediate searing pain filled my senses. My mouth went wide as it struck through my body. It didn’t matter how aroused I was. I hadn’t been prepared. I hadn’t even thought to try. I’d been so focused on him inside me, that using fingers, or even a tongue to stretch myself out, had been completely forgotten. Instead I was subjected to the completely foreign feeling of being filled with cock. The initial thrust was gut wrenching. I almost bent over with a sharp whine. My tongue loosened from my mouth, and I closed my eyes as I let it wash over me. I had no idea that pain could feel so… So amazing… 

“Quill!” Lod grabbed me by the shoulders with a whimper and squeezed. I choked back a gasp when his fingernails dug in. “Are you okay? We should stop. It’s too much!” 

“Why would I want to stop?” I whimpered, and looked back up at him with a pained grin. There wasn’t any point in trying to wipe away this much drool. “It feels amazing, Lod… So, so amazing…” I pushed down further, and Lod’s grip tightened even harder on my shoulders. He let out a muted moan and pulled me into his tense and shaky arms. His poor hips twitched up against me despite his best attempts to stay still, causing more sharp pain to leap up into my stomach. I forced myself back into him, coupled with a whimper. “You can thrust, Lod… I don’t mind.” 

“But you’re so tight…” He gasped. “There’s no way I could- it’s too much.”

“I can take it. It’s just your fault, that you’re the who had to grow so big,” I whined. “Please, just… Move your hips. More.” My eyes were weeping through the pain, and with every thrust deeper I was closer to wailing. But it was good. Unimaginably good. 

After reassuring him thoroughly that I was okay with it, he wasted little time in starting to thrust regularly. It was rough, sharp and crude, but it began to get slowly easier when I spit on my hand and used the lubrication to help. I was afraid that it would lessen the pain, but Lod couldn’t move right without it. 

I didn’t need to worry much. The pain barely faded after that. Whatever he had done had gotten deep inside, and nothing would stop it. I egged him on with kisses, nips and bites over his neck, whimpers for more, whines against his ear and a rocking gyration of my hips as I struggled to accommodate him.

He held me tighter and tighter as he used me, whimpering with each penetration and whispering my name under his breath. I couldn’t help but kiss him again, crying against his face and letting him lick the tears away. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He moaned by my ear. His rhythm was picking up, his face growing more and more desperate. I could feel a tension in his stomach. He was close. “It looks like it still hurts…” 

My face was so flushed with pain and pleasure, I couldn’t tell which was which anymore. “It does hurt,” I told him, then pushed my face against his chest to hide a moan that turned into a scream. “It hurts and it feels amazing…” 

“I thought it wasn’t supposed to hurt,” he stuttered, but kept thrusting all the same. He was too close to finished to turn back now, and I didn’t want him to. I could myself getting to the edge just as he did. I didn’t have anything better to do with my hands, so I stroked my own erection ruthlessly while he rocked his inside. I had no idea what I was experiencing anymore. The overwhelming feeling had reached beyond the realms of pain, or please. All I knew was my cousin was fucking me like he fucked his damn pillow in the middle of the night, and it was the most amazing feeling in the world.

“It’s okay,” I panted in reassurance. I grinned at him, my tongue sliding through my mouth as I closed the gap again to let him suck on my tongue. “I’m okay,” I moaned. “I promise. More… Please, brother.” 

“Stop it,” he whined. He could barely speak through grunts and moans. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Every time I do, you thrust harder,” I teased. I pushed back against his hips for good measure, and listened to him moan. 

The two of us worked desperately, our hips knocking against each other with little knowledge of what we were actually doing. Screaming and moaning each other’s names, teasing him until his ears turned red, the slap of skin against skin as his precum loosened me up even further, it was enough noise to send anyone running curiously in our direction. 

When the wardrobe door swung open and Jillian saw us, I didn’t think to stop. The light blinded the both of us, and at first Lod couldn’t tell what was happening. Then he heard her voice. 

“What?” I could dimly hear Jillian’s voice through the haze. “Is that- Quill?” 

“Jill!” Lod squealed. His cock jumped inside me as I he struggled to get away. I could feel his breath harsh against mine. He was at the very edge. “We’re – Quill, stop it! Stop! Quill!” I twined my legs firmly around his waist. He couldn’t move off if he wanted to. I knew he didn’t. I could feel it inside me, he wanted to finish. It didn’t matter if she was watching. 

“You’re close, aren’t you?” I asked him. I ignored the stares of his sister and continued to stroke myself up against his stomach. “Please… More…” 

“Quill, please,” he stuttered in pants. “You’re mad…”

“Quill, what the hell’s gotten into you?” Jillian muttered. She used her body to block the sight between the open door to the room, and the two of us inside the cupboard. But her eyes didn’t leave us. They were focused on the connection between me and him. Lod’s thrusting cock moving at unimaginable speeds, and my own panting form as I took everything he gave me. I could feel her eyes on me. Hungry. It drove me further. The hairs on my neck prickled as she watched without so much as a word. I pressed my face against Lod, and whimpered. 

“She’s watching, Lod…”

That set him off. I could feel the sudden rush of something twitching unmercifully inside, the sticky sensation of being filled, and then my own orgasm rushing through me and heightening everything that had already since overwhelmed me. 

I lay against Lod’s spent chest, and could only pant in gasping breaths. 

“What the blood hell did we just do…” Lod finally muttered. Tentatively, he glanced to Jillian like a kicked puppy. “I’m… I’m sorry you had to… To see that.” 

“Sorry?” She raised an eyebrow. I blinked, then turned my head back towards her with a fain flush. A slow, lascivious grin rose on her face. She looked as though she’d just been through the ringer as well. The red on her cheeks, the subtle waver in her voice… I wondered what she might have wanted. “That’s the best entertainment I’ve had all day.” 

“What? Really?” Lod asked.

She moved closer, until she was within inches of the two of us. The two of us twisted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, but Lod couldn’t move. And I didn’t want to. “Well, it’s not what I expected. You know you’re cousins, right? And weren’t you two always talking about getting entertainment girls when you came of age?” 

“It doesn’t mean I don’t want one eventually,” I scoffed. “Just…” I pressed my chin against Lod’s chest, and sighed. He was still large inside me, even after all of this. I felt a shiver go up my spine. “This is nice too.” I kissed his cheek, and purred. He flushed, then hid his face against my hair. 

“This is so embarrassing,” he muttered. 

Abruptly, the two of us flinched as we felt Jillian stroke over his deflating cock, then at my entrance with a curious experimental touch. Lod’s eyes went wide, but I merely whined. Her fingers rubbed against the two of us at the same time, prodding and poking at Lod’s cock while tenderly rubbing against my spent behind. 

“Jill!” He exclaimed. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“What?” She said. “I’m just looking.”

“That’s not looking- oh- Jill-“ I moaned as she pressed a finger up against me, then slowly inserted it. She moved it slowly, almost painstakingly. That harsh fire was back just as much as before, but this time it was far too overwhelming to enjoy it. “Jill, I just… I can’t do it anymore… It hurts…” 

“You really got it up there, Loddy.” Her voice was soft and breathy as she slowly thrust it back and forth. “He’s totally filled up.” 

“Don’t say it like that!” Lod whimpered. “And I can you feel you there too, you know. This is even worse, God, you’re my sister!”

“Sorry, sorry.” She drew her finger away, but a sly smile remained on her lips. “If you’re willing to fuck Quill, Loddy, then I don’t understand why you have such reservations about me just touching. I wouldn’t even ask anything of you, as long as I got to touch… It’s rude to leave me out when you two are having your fun, you know.” 

“You’re always running off to go to meetings and such,” I mumbled. “Why should we wait for you on these things?”

“There’s no way I’d have sex with my sister,” Lod mumbled.

“Because unlike you, I know how to have sex.” Jill continued uninhibited by Lod’s comment. She crossed her arms, then sat down at the edge of the wardrobe. “And I can help make sure that this-“ She held up a hand tinged with blood. “Doesn’t happen again.” 

Lod paled. I mentally kicked myself. 

“I wasn’t thinking-“

“Of course you weren’t thinking.” She rolled her eyes. “You were too busy getting off on it, I’m guessing, with that kind of moaning. But that’s fine. You’re just going to feel like your as is on fire for the next week or so. Live and learn. There are other ways to enjoy pain, Quilly.” She paused, then glanced almost shyly at us. “Have you guys been doing this before?” 

“No!” Lod stuttered immediately. “Never – I didn’t even… I didn’t think about it.” 

“It was my idea,” I said. “This was the first time.” 

“Well… I suppose you wouldn’t be able to hide moans like that,” she surmised. “But it’s not fair that you did it behind my back.” She bit her lip. I was surprised at how hurt she looked. “I thought we were all close.” 

“We are,” I insisted. I sat up against Lod’s chest. “Tell her Lod,” I poked him. “We are, aren’t we?” 

“Yes… Yes, Jill, I’m sorry,” He stuttered. “I just… I don’t know what to think. This is all so strange. I didn’t think… I can’t think - Quill, I can’t stay like this forever, you’re too tight.”

Jillian stood up, then offered her clean hand to me. “Right, we should probably get you cleaned up.” She smiled. “Get you both into showers, and then we’ll go down for dinner. Does that sound good?” 

I tentatively smiled back, and took her hand. 

“Yeah,” Lod whimpered. “Except I don’t think I can feel my legs.”


	4. Chapter 4

Madness is all around me and I am forced to wade through its disgusting, treacherous filth. Mud stains, screams, laughs and moans of unimaginable pleasure fill my senses. I am amongst the sick and depraved, surrounded by hands reaching out to grab my skirt, my arms, my hair, anything to get a taste. I can feel eyes on me from every angle. There’s madness around every corner, every bend and barrow, but in brief moments of lucidity, I know it long ago found a home within me. I can feel it there, at the edges of my brain, eating away and egging me on to do the things I hate the most. To hold that knife, to hear those screams, and to laugh in the face of torture. We can’t feel pain, why should they? It’s that voice inside your head that tells you to break yourself. To do something that would put you beyond the pale, and see the consequences of your actions. And laugh. I laugh. I laughed a lot, every time I heard it. I knew everyone else could, in their mind. They had their own madness. They feel nothing, just as I do.

Some chose to ignore it, to dilute it with drink, drugs, and sex. But that only heightened just how strong the madness could be. Once you took away those inhibited minds, and understood a brief moment of lucid thought, the madness would take sway. The madness would find those addled minds, that desperately hide away with vices, and it would churn their bodies into wasted souls. I’ve seen a madman with my own two eyes. He looked back at me. He slapped me, he laughed, and he changed into a monster. Those eyes showed me what he was capable of. There was a parasite within him. And I couldn’t save him. 

When your own brother is mad, what could there possibly be left for you, but to go mad as well? That is the way of the world. It slowly slides down the scale towards the definite ending that no one will ever be able to escape. It’s the reason this world exists. Madness is how this realm is meant to function. When you take away the love, the brilliance, and the passion of a world created by a child, what is there left but rot and ruin? That sweet madness that once blessed the world with whimsy and the spark of life is twisted in and of itself. Now it’s rotten, just as everything else. We’re all mad here. What a joke. No one truly realizes the danger of that these days. No one has realized how far the madness has taken us. 

Rot. Ruin. Death. Blood. Blood is the cleanest. Sweet, shimmering blood shows that there may still be hope for this world. No matter how much it may be diluted with pig swill and whiskey. No matter who’s blood it may be, a slaves’ or a masters’, it is still blood. Luxurious, and red. Redder than the Queen could ever be. 

She is the maddest of them all. It was through her, that this world was brought to its inevitable death. The Queen is the reason we are mindless. The reason we are stuck within this pit of tar and don’t bother to struggle. We simply beg for more.

We live in death even now. But no one has told us that this world dead, and we ignore the obvious signs. We ignore the dead trees, the black undergrowth, the wastelands that were once meadows, the dried up lakes. We continue to live upon this broken, destruction of a realm, and pretend that we are in the golden years of a beautifully wrought world. But we are an echo. An unchanging echoing shadow. Shadows don’t bleed. 

I bleed. When I bleed, it’s beautiful. I can see something alive. 

When the nobles I stalk bleed, I see the same. And I know I am mad. I know I have lost, just as everyone else will. It is inevitable. 

So why fight it?


	5. Chapter 5

MARGRET

Far off and away from any castle and any city, past the long overwhelmingly sunny plains and the winding road to the Capital, past the unyielding forests hiding dark and deceiving creatures, there lay a field of green and gold. The flowers there bloomed every morning in purples, oranges and reds. A few of these beautiful flowers grew in vines, leading to rows along the soft grassy ground that led up to the cottage. A few of them clustered among moister areas with the moss in clearings where the grass grew sparser. Amongst them were strawberries, or raspberries that hadn’t been choked by the grasses’ grip. Blackberries huddled there too. It was easy to mistake a blackberry for a fresh and juicy raspberry. There was a cluster of the two of them, with strawberries lining the bushes, right outside the cottage.

The cottage itself was rather simple. Wooden, with windows that had no glass, and dirt floors. Sitting outside the door, the sky was bright and clear. One could see for miles, with the thinnest slice of dark woods on the horizon in the distance. The wind howled over the meadow, and moved with it a scent of fresh air mixed with the blooming flowers. 

This is where I was born. A simple place, a cottage, with a field. Inside the small cabin were few rooms. One for me, one for my parents, and one for food and pleasure. The furniture was the best that my father could do with the knowledge he had. Crudely hewn as the beds and chairs were, they were still comfortable.

My father was better with a needle and thread than he was with wood. While we never seemed to have anything beautiful for furniture, we still had smocks that were more than satisfactory. For my birthday he used any excess cloth he had on hand and somehow manage a beautiful dress. Every time I’d get a new dress, I’d have something beautiful and bright to whirl around in among the fields. 

My father always referred to himself at the Mad Hatter, whenever I wasn’t busy calling him father. I knew it was a title, but I never asked for his real name. My mothers’ name was Alice. Her visage emulated whom she was named after. She had a heart shaped face, and beautiful blue eyes, though her hair was a dull black. She kept it neatly in a bun. My father asked on numerous occasions for her to take it down like she always used to. She only did that on his birthdays, dressing like how he remembered her. She cooked, cleaned, and grew the food from the rough patch of ground we had hoed, and kept the grass from encroaching onto it. He gathered what they couldn’t on their own. The Mad Hatter set off on several occasions off to the south towards he never took any of us, and never spoke about it the days after. I assumed that it was some kind of mesmerizing place where you simply had to ask and suddenly sugar would appear, or fabric, or metals. But wherever he went to was always too far to see, even on the clearest day, so I was left with mothers’ cold stare to watch and wait for him to return. He left for days at a time. I didn’t see him again until nearly a week had passed. It was soon after he returned that first time after I was born that the two of them were terrified to discover what I had done to myself.

I didn’t cry like other children. I didn’t feel things that babies were supposed to feel. I didn’t feel the pain from biting my own hands, the hurt from grabbing something sharp, or the agony when I toddled over a patch of briar. They knew that something was wrong with me from the moment they had caught me nearly biting off my own finger. My mother came back from working in the fields to see blood covering my mouth. And I smiled at her. I laughed, raised a mutilated hand at her, and made motions to be picked up from the roughly hewn cradle I’d been placed in. She called my father over to her, and the two of them stared in shock and fear at what I had done to myself. They argued, they questioned, they experimented, and they asked me as soon as I knew how to speak, what was wrong. 

“There’s nothing wrong,” I said with a smile. “I feel fine.” There was a deep gash in my leg from tripping over a log, but all I could feel was the flow of blood slowly dripping down my leg. I kept it still for my father to look at, but there was still a tugging sensation within me of wanting to run. There were more butterflies to catch. My father whistled at the cut, carefully cleaned and packed it with gauze, then glanced back to my mother with a sheepish look of defeat.

“What do you think, dear?”

“She can’t be lying. But she doesn’t hurt. She has to be careful. I don’t know…” Her voice was soft, serene, and broken. My mother shook her head in defeat, and turned back to finish dinner. My father grinned back at me and tenderly lay a hand on my small shoulder. 

“You’re going to have to be careful, crimson. You may not feel it, but this body of yours can’t take as much as you think it can. You might be feeling as happy as a clam, but that doesn’t mean you can take the wounds you don’t feel.” He carefully pointed to the other cuts and bruises. I hadn’t even noticed them. “This can’t happen, okay? You have to be extra careful. That means either you can’t chase the butterflies, or you make sure you don’t trip.” 

“I want to chase the butterflies,” I replied stubbornly. “They’re pretty.” 

“Then move carefully. Not like a butterfly. You have to pay attention to where you’re walking, alright?” He ruffled my hair with his calloused hands, then hugged me as tight as he could. I felt like I could never fall in those arms.

When I was five, I asked my father why we lived here. The cottage had always been my home. He never told me of anything else, and I never bothered to ask until that point. I never saw the point, if this was my world. I should have been happy here. I had the family who loved me, nothing to need for. I’m not sure why I thought to shatter his world that day. I looked up to my father in wonderment as I proceeded to ask him what had popped into my head as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. 

“Why do we live here?” I asked. He looked down from focusing so intensely on the square of thin beige fabric to see me, and he smiled with that shining bright smile. He placed down the thread carefully on the mattress of the bed and lifted me to the other side to avoid the needle. 

“Why do you ask, crimson?” 

“Because I just know here. And I know you and mother.” I pouted. “But I don’t know anything else. Were we always here?”

“No, my dear, we weren’t. Well, your mother and I weren’t. You were always here.” He always laughed softly when I pouted. His laugh was almost raspy, sweet in a way. His heavily calloused hand rubbed my dark red hair with flecks of burgundy, mussing it until strands stuck up on all angles. 

“We lived once, somewhere else, your mother and I. But it was a bad place, a very bad place. And no matter what we tried, it only seemed to get worse. Your mother had to live with a lot of cruelty in her life, and it caused a dark spot to grow on her heart. I mended it as much as I could.” He raised the patch of dress he had been working with. “Much like this. But there was still some leftover. That’s why she can appear cold at times.”

“All the time,” I interrupted. “She won’t even let me help cook.” He chuckled, and tossed me in his arms. I didn’t know what was so funny. My mother never seemed to do anything more than smile thinly when I brought her flowers, or helped her with the work around the house. I just wanted to make her happy, but she made it so hard.

“She might look that way. But I know she loves you still, very much. There is only so much madness a person can go through before it seeps within their heart. Mending it is something that only someone very special to them can fix. I wouldn’t talk about it with her.”

“Why not?” 

“If someone is reminded of it in a way that isn’t careful, and isn’t slowly helping them to work through those things, it can hurt. In fact, it can push them right back to the way they were. That would make the darkness come back, wouldn’t it? We work on it every day, but it has to happen slowly. Painstakingly.” He tousled my hair again and grinned at my frown. “Maybe you can even help her get through it too, when you’re older. But the things she went through, we’ll have to talk about another day.” I could forgive my mother, if she was suffering. I knew there was something wrong when she looked faraway sometimes, or when she couldn’t stop frowning even as good things happened. I was alright with being patient. She’d gotten better, that I could tell. But he hadn’t answered my question. 

“Fine,” I interjected. “But what about the bad place? I don’t know anything else, about anything. It’s just, bad place. Is it beyond the woods? Is it to the south? Where is the bad place? What makes it so bad? What madness?” 

“Margret.” The tips of his mouth went down. “The place I speak of is unsuitable for children, and the things I’ve seen… I wouldn’t forgive myself if I told you. It’s a terrible, lonely place, and when we left it was only getting more so. It lies at the heart of this country.” He pointed to the window outside. “Past the Wonderland Forest, past the fields and down a winding evil capillary of a road, that’s where the heart is. We left it because that heart was rotten. We left because your mother wasn’t considered a true person there, and I was expected to add to the terrible things that this place was creating. I was told by the people that called themselves my friends that were were expectations of me, for me to treat her just as terribly. It was how things were done, they said. I couldn’t do that to your mother. No one should have to suffer. So we traveled far, very far, and we ended here on the outskirts of it all. Now we’re free from the touch of that place. There’s no more evil, or madness. Just peace.”

“You left because of… mother? And evil?” It was a different concept to grasp. 

“Yes. Evil, mad, everything bad.” He smiled. “It was a terrible land. We’re far away from it now, so we don’t have to think about it anymore. Though, I fear that one day, we will have to move ever further to avoid it. That day may come eventually, but not now. Not while you’re as you are, crimson. For now, we have this place, and it’s still free. And I want you to experience that for as long as you can.” 

I left it at that, with a hug and a kiss to his cheek. I loved our little slice of happiness. I could never imagine having anything else. My heart was full. I had parents that loved me more than life itself. With time, my mother would talk to me more and more, and I could feel than my sympathy and care had given her even more reason to love again. I didn’t want to ask her what happened, if it meant that she wouldn't talk to me anymore. I wanted to keep quiet for the both of them. I didn’t want to break this world for them. We had to work together to maintain it, and keep it alive. 

We stayed in the same cottage for ages. Everything was perfect. My father collected wood for the stove top every few days and I’d follow him to the edge of the forest that lay on the other side of the meadow. There were two sides to this slice of heaven. One was the dark Wonderland Forest that my father had once told me led to the evil world. And the other was the softer one, the bright forest that marked the edge of the world. It took ages to travel to this side, but it was worth it. My father and I camped at the edge of that wood, and returned to mother the following morning with stacks of logs on a makeshift gurney that would last us the next month. We laughed, talked, and whistled the whole war back. I could never manage to whistle quite like he could. 

“Come on crimson, you have to purse your lips together.” He said, and let out a tune. I tried to copy him and spit on the ground instead. 

“It’s too hard, father,” I complained. “How do you make it sound good?”

“Patience, dear. You’ll have all the time in the world to perfect it,” he laughed. “You have to be careful where your tongue is, and you have to make your mother wider than that. The noise is from me pushing the air through the lungs, and out through the mouth. So you can’t constrict that, if you want the noise to show through.” 

“But that’s so complicated.” I kicked a stump, and he winced when he heard the sharp noise of it. 

“Careful,” he reminded me. “That’s too hard. You’ll hurt your foot, if you keep that up.” 

“Fine, fine…” I mumbled. “I’m tired of trying to be careful all the time.” I looked up at him, thought for a moment, then tugged his hand. He had to know the answer. Father knew everything. “Why don’t I feel it, father? It’s so annoying, all the time. I burned my hand on the fire last week. There’s still blisters.” I showed it to him again. He tutted, carefully turning it over. 

“You tried to pop them again, didn’t you? That’s supposed to hurt too, dear. You have to let the bubbles heal the hurt skin inside, or it’ll create twisted scars. I don’t want those pretty fingers of yours looking twisted and gnarled at your age.” He knelt down to kiss my fingers, then picked up his wood and started walking again. “I don’t know why you don’t feel pain, my dear. Really, I’m sorry for it. I wish I could help. Of all the things in the world, I wish you could feel these things, so you wouldn’t have to spend all your life focusing on them. But all I can do for you is teach you to be careful.” He ruffled my hair tenderly this time. “If you’re careful, then you won’t have to suffer at all, even if you don’t feel it. Pay as much attention as you can to yourself, and the world around you. That’s the only way you can survive in this world. Until you learn that, I’ll do everything I can to remind you, and teach you. I’ll be your eyes until you can catch it even better than I can.”

“I’ll never be that good!” I laughed, and the two of us continued down the path that divided the enormously tall field of grass in two. 

When I turned six, mother was pregnant again. The night that the two of them realized, I could hear them speaking excitedly in their room feet away from where I lay, staring up at the ceiling. The sounds of crying in bed at first turned into joyful laughter that they couldn’t seem to keep down no matter how hard they tried. They were acting like children, but I couldn’t fault them for it. 

My fathers’ laugh was infectious, even for my mother. She could have been as cold as ice, but she still melted under that laugh. He didn’t seem to realize how loud it was, but when she told him she was having the same signs again, the reverb from his hearty throat could be felt through the entirety of the little house. 

“Stop it!” I heard her say amongst her own giggling. “There’s nothing to feel! There’s barely anything there yet anyways. Lie back down, I’m fine! You’re going to wake up Margret, you know.” 

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m just getting a feel for where the baby is going to be.” My mother squealed, and I knew that he had lifted her. “How long, do you think? Will you be ready? How do you feel? I want to do everything I can for you. All I can. Just like before. You never have to lift a finger. Margrets’ old enough, we’ll work together. Anything you want, I’ll get you.” 

“What I want is for you to put me down. You already do more than enough, and Margret doesn’t need a full adult heaping of chores just yet. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Keep handling me like that and you’ll hurt the baby.” She teased him, and he seemed to oblige. The two of them quieted down after that, but even then they couldn’t seem to get to sleep. The silence only lasted for a couple minutes before my father started whispering far too loudly. 

“Do you think it’ll be another girl?”

“How am I supposed to know?” She started giggling again, and he did the same. 

“I don’t know, does it feel like Margret?” 

“I would assume being pregnant feels like every baby, right?”

“But what if girls are special? If there’s another girl, Margret would have a little sister.” His voice grew with excitement again. “A little baby to take care of. She’d love that, Alice. You know she would. The two of them, growing up together. A big family. And maybe another after this! An even bigger family! Red, black, blue, green, running around the place.”

“We’re not even certain yet!” She laughed. “Why are you planning out the rest of our family already? I don’t want to get your hopes up, but you’re not the one that has to deal with the child leaving the body.”

“Which is why I promise to give you everything you need up until the most important part of our lives.” I could heard the grin in his voice. My mother just responded with another laugh.

My mother had never laughed that much before. I stayed in my room, my eyes wide open and listening to them bounce off each other. No one was going to get a good sleep that night in the house. But I couldn’t stop smiling either. 

The days after were wonderful and bright. The cottage itself seemed to take on an aura of life and brilliance that made the years previous pale in comparison. Father cleaned, mother cooked, and they sang and hummed and whistled together to pass the time. I tried to follow along, but I still couldn’t seem to get the lips right. Father taught me in my little work book words and maths, but he was too swept up in his own fantasy that I had to tug on his shirt multiple times before he could hear me asking him how to solve a question. In between they discussed baby names and taught me on how to be the best big sister I could be. That was something my father seemed to be more coherent for. I couldn’t lie, though, I got swept up in it all too. Soon, I was going to have a little brother or sister. Not even I could focus on the chores they gave me, when I could watch my father setting up the old cradle in their bedroom, or stare at my mothers’ stomach getting larger by the day. I was right at the age where I wanted to copy my mother. I took care of my own little grass dolls when I wasn’t busy with working, and whispered sweetly in their ears that I would be the best mother in the world. 

“Margret?” My father peeked his head into the room. Embarrassed, I quickly put the dolls back down and tried to focus on the embroidery work he had given me to try out on my own. “Are those your dolls?” He smiled. “What were you doing?” 

I couldn’t lie to that face. 

“I was telling them how I was going to be a really good mother…” I sheepishly put down the embroidery cloth, and picked up my favorite doll. “I would bring them around in the fields and show them all my favorite hiding places, and then we’d both hike to the forest and sleep under the stars. And you can come too,” I added the last part quickly. 

“Are you doing to do that with your sibling?” He asked with a smile. I nodded hesitantly, and his grin went wide. “You’re going to be the best big sister in the world, Margret.” He made sure to ruffle my hair before he left the room. “You’re so careful all the time. I’m sure you’ll make sure your little brother or sister won’t get hurt either, right?” 

I nodded again. “I’ll protect them.” Beaming, I held up my doll. “We’re a family. Together.”

There’s a certain kind of happiness that’s so blinding bright perfect, one is never truly away of the storm that transpires after. 

The day that mother gave birth in their room I was sitting at the table in the center room and pretending to work on my studies. There was no way I’d be able to learn the times tables while something so important was occurring just beyond my sight. I could hear the screams, the shouts and the sobs but father had forbidden me from entering that room. I could feel my teeth grind against each other. Looking at page after page of numbers couldn’t set my mind at ease. I had no idea what my mother was going through. She told me that having me had been an effort, but in the end it had still been worth it. She’d still ended up holding me in her arms and falling in love all over again. And my father had added onto that how amazing it was to have me. When mother couldn’t express it, father could. They were a team, working together in there. But it sounded so painful and terrible that I was starting to wonder if a baby was worth it. By the fourth and fifth hour, I was convinced it wasn’t. My mother hadn’t stopped screaming. She had stretched her throat raw, and the noises were like a crow. But these desperate shouted and screamed at nothing. I could hear my father whenever she took a harsh and raspy breath, couching in a futile whimper that she could make it. His words were as strong as ever, but even his voice was wavering. It made my stomach churn, to hear him. More than my mothers’ pain, it was his fear that got to me. I looked down to see that I’d stabbed my pencil into my hand without noticing, and quickly removed, then went to bandage up the leaking wound. 

None of his words got through to her. She never responded to them. In her next breath, she was screaming again, just as loud and as wretched as before. But when she went quiet to take in another breath, he offered yet more words of encouragement. 

A baby was no longer on anyone’s mind. 

At the end of the tenth hour, I left food at their doorway. I’d done what I could with fried bread and jam and left a few pieces of jerky for good measure. But I closed the door behind me before I saw anything. I had to do as my father asked. I couldn’t let curiosity get the better of me, no matter how much I wanted to hold his hand and tell my mother the same things he did. I could hear his voice, nearly silent. But when I pressed my ear up against the door, I caught it. 

“Don’t stop, Alice. There’s a baby waiting for us. A baby. We have to have that baby. And then Margret will be happy. All of us will. We’ll be a family. I know you can do it.” His voice caught in his throat. “You’re the strongest person I know, love. The strongest person in the world. This is nothing for you. You’re beautiful, and you’re strong, and you can do this.” 

She responded with little more than a whimper. The screams had died down to nothing. I was surprised to hear any noise at all. Her voice had wilted like a flower. She was so quiet that father felt he had to as well. He whispered to her the same things he’d been saying since the moment it started. She was so tired. 

I sat back down on the chair in the main room and turned my attention to the small pocket watch sitting above the hearth. It was the only way I could tell that ten hours had passed. The memento my father had brought with him from his vague bad place was emblazoned with gold and silver with beautiful patterns along it. I had spent hours looking it over and wondering at its fine design. But today it kept time. And it kept my curiosity from getting the better of me. It kept me company when I couldn’t sleep, because there were tears in my eyes that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times I blinked them. I’d barely eaten anything. My stomach was turning in circles and all I could do was watch that little ticking clock as another long hour passed us all by. The sharp ticking was growing increasingly harder to ignore as it grated on my ears and reminded me that mother had taken three times as long as she had taken to give birth to me. 

It was twelve hours later when silence settled in that room. The house was still. There was nothing but the faint ticking of that pocket watch. I lay in the chair with my face sticky, and wet, and listened for something. Anything. 

Then the soft wail of a baby broke the silence. It was so quiet even then, barely more than sniffles. It quieted down minutes after it had come. I stood up straighter when I heard footsteps slowly force their way through the house, and end in front of me. A bundle swaddled in stitched blankets stained red was dropped onto my lap and I picked it up in an instant. Exhaustion ate away at me, but even so I couldn’t look away from him. His eyes were tightly shut with a face as wrinkled as could be, but there was a small little fuzz of bright red hair on the top of his head. “It’s a boy!” I said after having to check for myself. “He’s wonderful, a boy, father! A little boy, I have a brother!” It was only then I looked up to see my father. 

He was a corpse. His mouth was drawn in a thin line, his body stilted and crouched. He turned around without a word, and began to shamble back towards their room. I could see the eyes just before he turned. Hollow, and haunted. 

I didn’t want to remember the stains of red that had been on his hands, or all over his shirt and pants. I didn’t want to remember the tears that stained his face, or the fact that in the last hour of the birth, my mother hadn’t made any noise at all. There had been nothing but silence, when I stared at that ticking pocket watch and waited. 

I didn’t go into that room. I held tightly onto my baby brother, and I pretended that my parents were both asleep. The two of us ended up sleeping as well. I fell back in the chair with my brother in my arms and closed my eyes without meaning to. I wasn’t woken up until I heard his crying. It had only been a few hours, but he must have been starving. His face was even more scrunched than before, and he wailed as loud as he could. It was weak and small even then. The two of us left the small house that smelled of blood and death and went as quickly as we could to the small stable alongside it. I tried to feed him milk from the goats we kept, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough. It wasn’t human, and it wasn’t good enough. When I looked from the stable out towards the field, I saw the mound in front of the house for the first time. As the sun rose up, it shone down on the freshly covered dirt. The shovel it had been dug with still lay thrown a few feet away against the long grass.

I marked the grave with flowers before walking back inside. 

My father was staring at the pocket watch. He sat where I had not long before. He couldn’t take his eyes off the ticket clock. There was nothing in his eyes.

“Father.” I broke the silence. He didn’t respond. He wouldn’t stop staring. His mouth was open, but it said nothing. 

“Father.” I said again. “He needs to feed. We need to get him milk. Please, you need to bring milk back.” 

“Milk…” He said it slowly. It was like a strange new thing for him, something he’d never thought of before. “Milk.” 

“Please. From where you get everything else. Please. He needs it. The goats aren’t enough.” 

“Milk…” He stood up, and walked out the door. The baby cried, and I rocked him in my arms. In the time father was gone, I fed my little brother as much as I could, changed him, and still he seemed to grow weaker with every passing hour. I knew he wasn’t going to last long if father didn’t return. He wouldn’t survive on the goats and there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t feed him. I was helpless. This wasn’t a doll, this was a human life, and it was fading away before my eyes just like mother had while father could only watch. She was going to have died in vain. 

The world around us was quiet and cold. I ended huddled in my room with him swaddled in my arms as I told him stories I had come up with on the spot to pass the time. He would cry and cry, and I would continue to hold him and talk as if nothing were wrong. Eventually he grew quiet, and for a moment I thought that it had worked. But his closed eyes were more sunken than before. He was weak from hunger. 

At the end of the second day, father turned with enough breast milk to sustain him for the next few weeks. I didn’t ask where he had gotten it from. He kept it cold and viable in a pack of ice that had lasted him the entire way back, and stored it in the cold box of the cellar as soon as he was through the door. He named him the day he returned. “Rettah.” He’d said when he walked through the door. “I have the milk for Rettah.” 

“Thank you, father.” I tried to reach up to him with a free hand, but he did nothing but stare above me. “We’ll be okay now,” I said. “We’ll be okay, right?”

He said nothing. His eyes hadn’t changed. There was nothing inside them. He wasn’t father anymore. 

There were tears in my eyes when I realized I’d lost both my parents. 

I fed Rettah, and he grew quickly. It was amazing how much a baby could bounce back after brought to the brink. But his eyes opened, and that nearly blinding, shimmering green coupled with the scarlet that covered his head was almost awesome. He was alive, breathtakingly alive. 

Father occasionally left, brought back more milk and food, but he did nothing else. I would cook, and feed him, and he would just sit there and watch the clock, as if waiting for the time he would have motivation again to get up and bring back more. I wondered if the ticking tortured him as much as it did to me. 

Rettah only grew brighter. Both of us looked so alike, but he was always more there, more alive. His hair was a pure crimson, and mine was a mixture of burgundy and duller, darker colors. He was a shining star. I was a dull planet. And yet, I couldn’t be jealous. He barely cried, he learned his words quickly and his manners quicker, and he was always there and ready to learn and experience new things. I was there when he learned to walk and coached him the entire way. I was there when he said his first words and then sentences. I was there when he tried a raspberry for the first time and decided it was the most sour thing in the world. I was there when he tried it the second time and suddenly seemed to like it. I hid a smile when I realized he’d mistaken a blackberry for a raspberry the first time. He had such a sweet tooth.

Father just stared at that clock. Nothing I did would draw him out of it. Once, I forgot to give him his dinner, and in the morning he was still there, still un-moving, still as cold as ever. He had left the day that she died when he walked out of that house, and there was nothing I could do to reach him. There was always that guilt, that helpless feeling that if only I took his advice, if only I tried and worked through it with him, maybe he would look at me again. Maybe he would hold me in his arms and call me crimson. 

I couldn’t wait for that day. I had to devote myself to the one thing that kept me from fading away. Rettah needed me as much as I needed him. My little brother was more than I deserved. 

When he was four and I was starting to teach him how to cook, father stood up from the chair he sat on. Still staring at that clock, still watching it tick the hours away.

“Are you going to get supplies?” I asked from over my shoulder. I couldn’t leave the pan unattended with Rettah beside me. Even now I kept an eye on it, knowing that if I wasn’t careful I could spill oil on myself. I’d done it before, and the scars weren’t very appealing. 

Father didn’t respond, but I didn’t expect him to say anything. “We don’t need anything right now.” I continued. “You don’t have to go out.” 

“Where’s father going?” Rettah chirped. He ducked his head under my arm and watched father walk closer to the clock. 

“Father, you don’t have to go. It’s alright. Dinner’s almost ready, I’ll have it for you in a moment.” He grabbed the watch and brought it to his face. The pocket watch neatly fit into his hands. They were still calloused hands. A little wrinkled now, with age. A little softer, since he hadn’t touched a needle in years. But still the same ones that had once fluffed up my hair. 

“Father?” An edge of worry grew in my voice as he turned without a word for the door. He had pocketed the watch and I had to crane my neck to see him leave. The oil was boiling furiously but I reluctantly left it as I ran out the door to catch him. “Father!” I cried out. 

He walked with his back to me towards the sea of green and gold, towards the sliver of forest he never took me too, and towards the evil place. He wasn’t slowing. He wasn’t stopping. He was walking down that old and barely used path with no intention of stopping. I ran up to catch him and gripped his waistcoat. His strength almost barreled me over, but I had stopped him, I had caught him. 

“Father.” I gasped. “Please, stay with us. Don’t go. We need you. Please.” He didn’t say anything for a long moment. He was staring at the trees that lay miles ahead, a thin line of lime green and black that bordered the field. “Please!” I cried. “You can’t go! I need you, I can’t do this without you!” I sobbed, and shoved my face into his back. “We’re supposed to be a big happy family. We can’t be a family without a father, we can’t be happy without you. We need you. I need you. Please.” I stretched my hand out to grab his, and with watery eyes, placed it on my head. I looked up to him with a whimper, and tried to smile. “It’s me, father. It’s Crimson. I’m here, father. I’ve been careful this whole time. I didn’t burn myself, I didn’t trip, I only cut myself with the knife a few times when I cut carrots. I told you I’d be a good big sister. I’ve been good, haven’t I?” My voice cracked. “I’ve been good, haven’t I?”

He spoke his first words to me in four years without turning around. 

“I’m going to kill them all.” 

He forced my hand off him, and walked away. 

I never saw him again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains: Pedophilic content (serious disclaimer on that), underage, exhibitionism, femdom, incest, threesome, pain play, masochism, orgasm denial.

QUILL

 

The Lord Kingdom spanned the entire south of Wonderland up to the very edge of the Wonderland Forest. To the west, the borders ended up sandy shoreline and cliff-sides that might have seemed tall, but I was always told that the Queens’ Kingdom had ones much more awe-inspiring. The borders ended up north near the winding roads that led to the Capital, and to the east at the edges of Wonderland forest, making the Lord Kingdom one of the largest in Wonderland. Every bit of it was filled with farms of green and gold. An eternal autumn in the Lord Kingdom - a sliver of the meager magic left in the world - meant an eternal harvest. The cows, pigs and chickens were always plump and juicy, the calves grew quickly, and the barley skyrocketed over our heads. It was difficult to call ourselves the poorest kingdom, with such abundance. No one in the palace would ever starve. 

And the palace itself, well that was massive. At the center of this enormous swath of land was the castle that housed the Lord in charge of it all. It was much the same as the other three palaces, ruled by their respective leaders the King, Queen, and Duchess. But this one was golden, surrounded by fields of wheat and from it rose those with the brightest yellow hair and the most golden of eyes. We were all descendants of the immortal Lord. We hid among our castle in the safety it provided, just as their Lord hid by himself in his rooms and never left. I didn’t mind. I didn’t need to know who it was that granted us this safety. 

What I did need to know was whether or not any of these hidden nobles would come upon the second floor hallway that ran straight down the middle of the castle. It was a smaller one, at least. Not many were going to use it. But the thought of someone seeing the three of us, the thought that we might be caught with Lod pounding my ass and Jillian gripping me tighter while egging me on, nearly sent me over the edge. 

“Quill, you have to be quiet if you want to do this here,” Jillian teased by my ear. “I suppose I could ball my sock in your mouth, but that would be a tad disgusting. I wouldn’t want your drool all over it, would I?” 

“I can’t help it,” I tried to talk past the moans, but when I wasn’t busy covering my free hand with my mouth, I was nearly screaming. Sharp stabs rose up from my entrance and made my cock twitch with every thrust. “It’s… Good… So Good.” She laughed, and pressed her body closer against me. I could feel her breasts pointed and hard from watching us. She always teased herself too much. If she told me to do something for her, I would, but she never did.

“Quill,” Lod stammered between pants behind me. His hands gripped my waist like a vice as he rolled his hips into my abused hole. Without preparation, it was almost painfully tight for him. For me, it was intoxicating. I rocked back with every thrust and could feel the squelching of his own fluid, and the small amount of spit he’d used as an afterthought. I was being rammed by my cousin and I couldn’t have been more aroused. He always seemed surprised when I pushed back into his thrusts. But he never moved hard enough. “I can cover your mouth with my hand, if you want.” 

“No, I got it,” I stuttered through another thrust, glanced back at my tentative cousin, and offered a pained grin. “More, Lod. Please.” 

“I’m already going as hard as I can without making you bleed again…”

This was our favorite kind of play. None of us could get enough of it. We all knew it was wrong, we all knew it was terrible, we knew getting excited at the idea of a cousin or a sibling turning your insides out meant there had to be something wrong with us. But we didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want to stop. If either of our parents’ found out, we knew it would be over. Jill was especially terrified of her newly installed privileges being revoked. But I couldn’t leave well enough alone. I poked and prodded Lod the entire time after, and refused to let him shun me like he wanted to. He thought leaving me alone and never talking about it again would work. He was sorely mistaken.

The second time convincing Lod was worst than the first. He’d gotten far too thoughtful, thinking with his head instead of his cock. Instead of remembering how I must have felt around him, he was busy thinking of what would happen if we were ever caught. Or worse, what would his mother say to him. He was obviously a monster, for sleeping with me. A degenerate. He’d said as much and worse, and every word had sunk into my back like an arrow. He’d preface it with how much he cared about me, of course. I’d been limping for weeks after he’d used me. Sitting down was impossible, and when we went for our lessons it took everything I had not to howl when the tutor forced me to sit down and read through the historical textbook. Then when I’d patiently reminded him that pain was one of my favorite parts of the experience, he’d go back to talking about Jillian. 

She was complicated. I didn’t think she’d find us, much less enjoy it as much as we did. Lod and I were uncomfortable in the days after. But she wouldn’t leave me alone, the same way I wouldn’t leave him alone. And Jill, well… She was still beautiful. Like a female Lod, with darker hair and a grueling temper. But when she got what she wanted, she was nice, if a little teasing. It lit up some part of me that I hadn’t even realized. And Lod listened to her. When she told him to sit back on the bed and let me try lapping at his reluctant cock for the first time, he did it. And when I begged to have him again, she was right there helping convince Lod that it was in his best interest that he used me just as roughly as he had before. It was the only chance that he’d ever have at getting his dick wet, after all. She knew her brother as well as I did, but she had the strength to back it up. 

She was the one that found this place in her travels. It was used as the living quarters of the nobility working in economics and lesser trade duties for the Capital, so they tended to be off away on business. There wasn’t a likely chance that they’d hear us, she’d told him. I could see by the twinkle in her eyes that she was hiding something. The conspirator glance she gave me after proved me right. If she told  
Lod she wanted dangerous sex that anyone could see, he’d run away before she could finish her sentence. But she knew how to phrase things. And she knew that all three of us loved the danger, even if we weren’t willing to admit it. He was hardest inside me when he was filled with anticipation of being seen.

I could feel it even now. Sandwiched between cousins and feeling the heartbeats of both of them as Lod plunged over and over, I could feel the eyes on me from each of the doors. Any of them could open, if one of them happened to still be in the Palace. Maybe their lover, or child would see us instead. They’d catch me being played with in a way that made me sob against Jills’ shoulder, and beg for more. I hadn’t even known what a pervert meant until Lod had started fucking me. Now I seemed textbook. 

“Wow,” Jill muttered under her breath as she took a look at the rough and painful thrusts between us. Lod was relentless because I told him to be, but he was also enjoying it for his own sake. I could hear his panting by my ear. I knew what he sounded like when he was getting closer. I was making him closer. 

Jill held me firmly in her arms, having the perfect seat to see me shaking and moaning pitifully in pain and pleasure. Her kisses peppered my cheeks and forehead in encouragement, but that strange gleam in her eyes told me she liked my discomfort as much as I did. I didn’t mind if she egged on my favorite things. “I don’t know how you stand this, Quill. It looks like you’re going to be bleeding again if he keeps this up.” 

“I don’t care,” I moaned, and pushed my face against her chest. She towered over me and it felt good to be held when Lod couldn’t. “It’s good… I want more.” I was between my favorite people and I couldn’t even think. I didn’t want to. Jill made sure I didn’t have to.

“Is that the only thing you can say to describe it?” She asked. “Have you lost the last of your braincells again, Quill? Did he fuck them all away?” 

“Nnn… Maybe…” She laughed, running a hand through my hair and biting my ear until I flinched. Her grip tightened on my shoulders, and the pain started to veer me closer to the edge as well.

“You look like you’re about to cum.” She grinned. “It’s all dangling and leaking. Your poor cock seems abused, not getting touched like this. I almost want to relieve you.” She reached out to touch it, but dropped her hand at the last moment. A small whimper died on my throat. “I guess your ass will have to make up for it. I’m sure you don’t mind.” She glanced over at Lod again, and purred. “How are you holding up, Loddy?” 

“Jill, stop it!” He pressed his own face against my back. I could feel the heat of his blush against my bare back. “I’m not letting you talk to me like that, I can’t take my own sister saying those things. Why do you have to speak so dirty?” 

“Come on, get over yourself. I’m just trying to facilitate my brothers’ enjoyment here. You love the talk, don’t you?” 

“No,” he stuttered. He’d gotten harder again.

“He does,” I whimpered against her chest. “I can feel him. Fuck Lod, you dirty bastard…” 

“Well,” she said as she continued stroking my hair. “If not for your sake, Lod, then to make sure our cousin here knows his place. He’s an adorable slut for the both of us and I rather enjoy making sure he remembers that. Isn’t that right, Quill? How do you like being sandwiched between us like this?” She looked down at me with an evil smirk. I could only whimper. The games she played were strange, but they made my heart beat out of my chest. I found myself nodding, offering a muffled happy noise, and getting rewarded with another twist of her fingernails digging into my shoulders. Lod moaned as I tightened up considerably around him. I choked back a scream. “He might love this, but I’m worried you won’t be able to hold on by the time Quilly is ready to come. If you finish prematurely like last time-”

“I won’t!” He exclaimed, and thrust inside me for good measure. I blanched, wailing at the pain before quickly covering my mouth again. “Why did I even agree to this… We could have just tried the bedroom again!” 

“Because,” I stuttered through rougher thrusts. “It’s on the first floor. There’s too many people. Jill said.” 

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Jill looked down at me with a dark look, and grinned as she ran a hand through my hair. I bucked into her grip, then back against Lod as that delicious pain built up inside of me. “But the idea of being caught is also pretty appealing in and of itself, isn’t it?” 

“Jill!” Lod stared in disbelief. He paused his thrusts for a second. I whimpered in my orgasm delaying again. The last time he’d finished too soon, Jill wouldn’t let me finish until he was ready to go again.

“What?” She rolled her eyes. She was giving the game away. I could only hope he didn’t run off. “The two of you went insane when I caught you before. It was quite the sight to see. I don’t think we’ve quite captured the passion since.” She lowered her gaze to me with a predatory grin that widened as Lods’ thrusts began jerking me around again. My cousin was shaking, muttering under his breath, but he wasn’t leaving until he’d finished fucking me. I tried to bite my lip to keep from moaning, but in the end, I was wailing right in front of her like a little girl and enjoying every second of it. There was no point to hiding the noises I made. The slapping of Lod’s cock against my hole more than made up for it.

Jillian kissed me then and there for the first time. I was shocked to feel how this time it was her that probed my mouth, not Lod. The taste of her was so different. Mint and spice. He was so much sweeter. She knew what she was doing, twisting and pulling every which way. She must have done it a few times before. I could feel her breath, airy and hot against my mouth as she paused for air, then sucked on my tongue as roughly as she could. When she finally let me go, my own tongue hung out waiting for more. I looked up at her with hazy eyes, and whimpered for more. 

“You taste sweet,” she chuckled. The shock took over, when I realized what we had done. I thought I wanted Lod. I was sure I had only wanted Lod. But right then, I wanted her just as much. I couldn’t believe myself. “Cute.” Her fingers ran through my shaggy hair. I dropped my face against her hand, and closed my eyes. 

“You kissed her.” Lods’ eyes were wide. “You kissed Jillian.”

I flushed darker and ducked my head with my mouth covered firmly by my hand. He began moving even faster than before, and every breath was a gasp as I barely contained myself. I was so close, almost there, and he was right on the edge as well. His hips bucked sharply into me like some kind of animal, and Jillian was smirking like the cat that got the cream. He was needlessly rough, wanting to fuck away her claim. He didn’t need to. I was still firmly skewered on his cock.

“Jealous, brother?” She asked. When he nodded meekly, she stepped aside, grabbed him by the throat, and kissed him as well. 

He choked for a moment. We both did, when I realized what she had done. 

Lod bucked harder than ever before when she forcibly opened his mouth and tasted him. She led the kiss even more harshly than she had with me. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes half closed in desire, she tangled her tongue with his, bit at his lip and purred against his mouth as he struggled to maintain a steady rhythm. He couldn’t last. I could feel him finish inside me, and groaned at the warmth of the fluid that filled up all of the burns from over-passionate thrusts. The slick feeling of being used had me nearly collapsing and on the edge of my own orgasm. But as I rocked back against him, I could feel him already growing smaller. I hadn’t come yet. And Jillian was probably going to play her game again. 

I sighed in exhaustion and let myself fall against the wall. 

“Jill, I already – you can stop-” Lod couldn’t get a word in while Jill lapped at his lips. Her eyes were still heavy, though his were wide with fright, as she pushed his mouth apart to lead him on another deep and passionate kiss. She reached for his arms and pulled them to his sides, then brushed against the poor cock that had just finished from a rough fuck. 

When they pulled away, a string of saliva connected the two of them. Lod stared up wordlessly at her, as red as the first day we’d touched each other. 

“It’s good, right?” She whispered. 

He nodded meekly again. The dull heat surrounded all of us. We were in a haze of desire, of happiness, of flushed bodies. It was a dream.

“Quill!” 

Jillian and Lod turned sharply at the noise of my fathers’ commanding voice. Lod whimpered in terror, half naked in the middle of the hall and entirely unsure of what to do with himself. Jillian moved in front of him and me both with her eyes betraying the terror she felt. I was completely nude, half collapsed against the floor among the clothes we’d left forgotten, and still reeling from a high that had nearly made me finished. I was bruised and bitten, and for a moment aroused at the sound of being found out. I hadn’t gotten it until it was far too late. 

When my addled mind put two and two together, I looked up in mute horror at my father. He stood before me as a giant, far taller than Jillian and an aura of superiority that he could back up with ease. The man was as yellow as they came, with blinding yellow eyes and hair the color of the sun. His clothing was pristine, a faint pastel yellow with brass pants and a belt shining gold. The embroidery was filled with the spades symbol of the Lord. 

And his eyes gored into my body. I trembled against the wall and struggled to stand up, but I slipped on the semen falling between my legs. The fantasy had ended. There was nothing left but fear. 

“Father,” I stuttered. 

“I hear that you’ve been doing terrible things with your own cousins behind my back.” His voice was chilling, like cold water splashed on my face. “I couldn’t believe these rumors. But now this? In the middle of the palace? Do you realize what you’re doing?” 

Lod tucked himself quietly back into his pants and glanced from me to the formidable creature that was my father. “We were just playing,” Jillian began, but my father cut her off with a scowl. 

“Just playing? Young lady, should I tell your parents about what you are doing? I understand Lord noble girls are particularly stubborn, but you tread dangerous waters when you speak to me like that.” 

“But he didn’t do anything wrong!” She said. “I suggested it! It’s not their fault, it’s mine!” She stuttered the last part. Lod and I both watched in surprise. 

“Jill,” I groaned. “You can’t do that. Your privileges…” 

“Bugger the privileges, it was my fault!” She glared up at my father. “Don’t hurt them.” 

“I’m sure you did everything here,” he said dryly. “You obviously have a cock to fuck Quill with. It doesn’t matter, Jillian, but I’ll keep that in mind when I discuss your punishment with your father. Now both of you, run along. I have to deal with my son.” 

The two of them looked between each other. I could see the fear in their eyes. Jill wanted to stay. She was too stubborn, and Lod would do whatever I asked. I could see it in them, the way they held each other. They kept looking at my father, to me, between each other like a pair of lost souls. They wanted to protect me so much that they wouldn’t bother to help themselves. 

“We’re not-”

“Go,” I whimpered. “Go back to Lod’s room. I’ll be back. I promise.” 

“We can’t,” Lod whimpered. 

“Are you going against my orders?” My father intoned. 

Lod flinches, then weakly shook his head. Jillian was grabbing his hand and dragging him away before either of them could speak again. She looked over her shoulder just once to look back at me. Worried. 

I tried to smile at her. 

“Now, Quill.” The tone of my fathers’ voice grew darker. Abruptly I felt an arm wrench me to my feet, and another shove me towards the nearest room. He opened the empty chamber and closed the door behind him, with the clothes I’d left on the floor of the hall gripped in my hand like they were garbage to him. He threw them onto the nearby bed and blocked the only exist with his own body, leaning noncommittally against the frame. I stood in front of him, naked and shaking. My erection wouldn’t go down. I kept willing it to, kept trying to think of something else, but it wouldn’t stop. Every raunchy idea me or Jill had ever thought of had vanished in a puff of smoke. The fantasy was gone, and I was staring down the barrel of a cannon. And yet I couldn’t will myself back down. I was stuck trying to maintain my fathers’ eye contact and covering myself as best I could. He wasn’t looking at my face.

“Can I have my clothes back?” I muttered. 

“No.” I suppose I already knew the answer. 

“I’m sorry, father,” I tried to say, but stopped when his eyes narrowed at me. 

“You have no idea what to be sorry for. You’re simply apologizing because you see me like this. You don’t even realize what you’ve done, have you?” 

“What did I do?” I whimpered. “I was just trying to enjoy myself. You don’t let us touch the entertainment girls until we’re sixteen. The Capital is full of sex, isn’t it? Why can’t we-”

“This is not the Capital,” His voice commanded. He wasn’t loud, but he didn’t need to be. I still flinched. “This is the Lords’ Palace, and we are under his jurisdiction. These rules are kept in place to make sure you don’t do something foolish, like have a child when you are still one yourself. But it seems that my rules were still too lax.” 

“Lod can’t get me pregnant!” I tried to reason. 

“No, he can’t.” My father eyed the seat beside the desk, abandoned with nothing but blank papers and quills, then sat down on the ornate wooden chair and crossed his legs. “Come here, Quill.” 

I didn’t move. There was something in his eyes. He’d never looked at me like that before.

“Come. Here. That is an order from your father.” 

I held my breath, and walked up to him.

“I’m about to tell you something that you mustn’t tell others, do you understand me?” 

“I understand,” I whimpered, though I had never been more confused. My damned cock still wouldn’t go down. Hiding it with my hands was doing next to nothing. And he kept watching me. I couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Lod’s father and I were the same.” 

“The same-”

“We fucked.” He tilted his head, and eyed my body from my chest down to my knees. “But he knows his place. He knows where he belongs, and it is certainly not as a top. Lod’s father is as meek as they come. I have made it absolutely certain that our family line will be the dominant one. We are the rulers, Quill. Of our family line, of this Palace. I am the one that keeps this place turning. Which is why this little game of yours is embarrassing and infuriating to me. Do you not realize how humiliating it is for Lod’s own son to be the top in this little relationship of yours? Do you not realize who it is you’re representing?” 

“I don’t understand,” I whimpered. “Why does it matter? I like it this way.” 

The slap stung my cheek. I hadn’t even seen it happen. It was only the sharp pain of the aftermath, and the shock of what he had done to me that I felt. I slowly turned my head back around with wide eyes, but he hadn’t even changed his expression. He was still hungry. I’d only ever seen that look in Jill’s eyes, before. 

The back of my neck prickled in fear.

“What you like doesn’t matter.” He eyed the bruises, the bitemarks, and the semen still dripping from between my legs. “Where did I ever go wrong with you?” He murmured. “I got a strong wife, second only to me. I made sure you had the best tutors. I only allowed you to play with the highest breed of Lord nobility. The Lord himself attested to your birth. Do you realize how rare it is for the Lord to comment on anything?” 

“I don’t know, sir.” 

“Sir.” He gripped my chin. “Is that how you intend to make me feel better?” 

“I don’t know how else,” I stuttered. “What can I do to make you happy?”

He gripped my cock, and started to stroke it. 

“I suppose I’ll have to revaluate how I see you.” His eyes darkened as he tightened his grip on my poor cock until I hissed in pain. Then he loosened it, only just, and stroked to the tip. He pinched the edge, and a slow thin smile rose on his face when I squirmed against it. “You’re no true son of mine. You’re weak. You’d let Lod fuck you, and like it. I’d bet you would let anyone fuck you.”

“No…” His grip tightened on my erection, and I flinched into him this time. He held me up against his chest and jerked me more soothingly. 

“That’s a lie, Quill. Tell the truth.”  
“No!” 

He wrenched my cock in his grip, and my eyes bulged. 

“You shouldn’t lie to your own father.”

“I… I would like it,” I felt like crying. I pressed my face against my father’s collar as the tears started to fall. It reminded me of the time he held me, when I fell in the yard. I couldn’t have been more than five. I couldn’t let him see me like this. I couldn’t cry in front of him again. I couldn’t show more weakness.

His strokes grew more frantic. I didn’t want to like it. I tried so hard to hate it. But I was panting by his ear and he could hear it. He could feel me getting bigger in his hand. I could feel it too. “Good,” he said. “The one thing you have left is telling the truth. Tell me, why is it that you let them fuck you bloody?” 

“I liked it,” I cried softly. I almost tried to push away from him when he went faster. My arms were tensed and strained. One side of my mind was yelling at me to run. But I was close. I couldn’t seem to forget who it was that was touching me. I was reminded of it over and over, every time I heard his voice, every time I made the mistake of opening up my scrunched eyes and looking at his impossibly golden hair. “Father, please…” 

“Please, what?” He chuckled. “Let you finish in my hand? If you’re the bottom of this food chain, Quill, then do you really believe you deserve it?”

I wanted to beg him to stop. I wanted this to be a nightmare. I wanted to hate what he was doing to me. But I was arching into his touch. I was gripping his shoulders and panting with every touch, bucking my pathetic hips and waiting, wanting it to be over. I finished into his hand with a shrill whine, and he directed the cock to splatter the semen against my own heaving body. Not a drop of it landed on him. 

He held me for a moment longer. I could hear his hastened heartbeat. I was pressed close enough to feel his hardening erection. It twitched between us, and the nausea hit me. I nearly fell into him. 

“Are you so weak that a single orgasm renders you immobile?” He tutted, and let me lie against him. His hand stroked over my hair, and gently continued. He caressed down my shoulders, my back, and ended at my entrance with a light touch of his finger against the slick, coated hole. His body seemed to tense, but he continued down without lingering there. “I want you to get your clothes on, and go to your tutoring,” he finally said. 

“I should get cleaned up.” My voice sounded like a whisper. 

“Sluts don’t bother to clean their holes, Quill.” His voice was still just as cold. “I have work to do. If you’re going to be Lod’s toy, then be aware of the consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

My stomach roiled. 

“Yes… Father.”

“Good.” My father pulled me off of him and rose, then left the room without another word.

I fell to the ground in a heap. There weren’t any tears. Not now. I could only stare at the floor of the room, and listen to the quiet dripping of my own semen off of my chest. My cock was still hot from my father’s touch.


	7. Chapter 7

MARGRET

For a year, I tried to make it work. I used what little supplies we had in the cellar, I gave Rettah as much of the milk as we could get from the goats, and grew what I could from the meager farms that my mother had once tended. Out in the sun in the middle of a heated day, I tried to cut the soil with the tools my father had gotten. The world had gotten drier and drier. The fronds of cracked and desiccated grass blew in the breeze, but they offered no shade. I could see Rettah from here, just in front of the house. He sat at the steps drawing in the dirt in front of him. This time it was a goat. At least I thought it was, if I squinted my eyes. His face was growing slowly thinner, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He must have been woken by the noises we’d both heard last night, but tried not to think about. 

I turned back to the plants, and dug harder. 

I gave him all the berries we could find. I cried when the carrots and potatoes we planted died. And I cried harder when the already meager reserves had dwindled down to a dozen canned vegetables. Rettah grabbed my hand that time. He blinked up at me with a lack of comprehension in his face, and he smiled. 

“Why are you crying?”

“No… No reason.” I wiped my eyes, and tried to smile back. “Did you get any berries, today?” 

“The berries are all picked over, Margy.” He said my name like a song, and swished my hand in his for good measure. “I couldn’t find any for a mile.” 

“We’ll have the canned potatoes, then,” I said. “How much wood do we have left?” 

“None. You’ll have to go out again.” I nodded to myself, but internally the fear prickled in my stomach. There was no way I could make it to the far end of the forest, not with the meager food we had. I’d have to go to the other side. That lime crest on the edge of the horizon that my father had walked towards months ago. The Wonderland forest was one of the places I’d been told time and time again not to even tread towards.

“Then I’ll leave you in charge of the house.” I knelt down to his level, and stroked his hair. “You have to take care of everything while I get wood, alright?” 

“I’ll sweep!” He grinned, and I smiled back. The exhaustion left for the subtle moments like these. Just to see him happy, it made me forget how little we had left. 

“You sweep, and you eat all the berries you can find, okay? Even the sour ones. I want you to stay happy, and not hungry.” 

“But I hate the sour ones,” he whined. He wrapped his hands around my neck. They were cool from the cellar. “And that’s not fair to you. You never even eat at all.” 

“Yes I do.” I pet his head with a smile. “I have food when you do.” 

“You always give me too much. You don’t eat hardly any. Doesn’t it hurt?” He blinked at me. “You’re really thin. Like a twig.” 

“I’m fine. Really. It doesn’t hurt.” I got up slowly on legs that nearly buckled, and led him back up to the house. “You’re a growing boy. You need to eat.” 

“You’re a growing girl,” he retorted, but he went quiet after that. He was always good at knowing when there wasn’t a point in arguing. I hadn’t told him, but he must have known. Somewhere in there, he must have realized we were running on borrowed time. But I couldn’t tell him. I didn’t want to give him the suffering I already had. 

I left for the Wonderland forest the next day. 

Staring into the dead branches, the leaves that didn’t move in the breeze-less air, I began to realize why my father never took me here. Something was in there. I could feel it. It pushed me away, like a hand was desperate to keep me from subjecting myself to whatever was in there. I stared deep into the recesses of the line trail that wound around and disappeared into the darkness, still there in the middle of the day. The further I looked into that forest, the more the world seemed to twist off its axis. The silence grew stronger, until I had to avert my eyes and tap on the road to make sure my hearing hadn’t gone.

I held my ax tighter, and tried to be strong. I had to be strong. For Rettah. I had to be a grownup now. No more dolls, I’d burned those long ago. No more toys. I could be a grownup. I could do this. I could be strong enough for both of us. And maybe I could fix the plants for next time. Maybe I hadn’t hoed deeply enough into the ground. It was possible. I could do this. 

The wood was black inside when I chopped it down, and a lot of it crumbled in my hands. Fear seized me, that this was all for nothing. That I’d wasted energy. But I couldn’t think like that. Some of the wood held its shape. I turned it over in my hands and noted the slight brown in the very center of the pieces. It might have been dead, but it still held the lime green leaves the entire forest was filled with. If it grew, it should burn. 

With that thought in mind, I turned for home with as much of the wood as I could carry. 

I heard Rettah before I saw him. When the crying prickled my ears, I broke into a sprint with my arms gripping the wood like they were the most important thing in the world. I tried to reach for the ax tied about my waist but I nicked my hand in my haste. I could feel the cool blood dripping down my hand when I finally found him. 

Rettah was holding the head of one of our goats. All of them, all five of the herd, had been ripped to shreds. 

“Rettah… Get away from there.” I dropped the wood and held up my ax. My hand hadn’t been nicked; there was a deep groove of flesh leaking dark liquor. I winced. I hadn’t been careful, and that would cost me energy I didn’t have. 

“She’s dead,” he whimpered, and looked to me like I held the answer as to why. “She wasn’t like this, but then I heard screaming. I thought they were you, but…” He broke into stutters. “But I was scared. I thought something had happened and I was too scared.”

“It’s okay Rettah, you did everything right. You stayed in the house. That’s good.” I smiled nervously at him and beckoned him over. “It’s okay. It’s fine.” He ran up to me in tears, and I hugged him with my good hand. The other felt numb. “Something bad happened to them, but we’ll figure it out.” 

“What happened?” He asked. 

“I…” I looked to the bodies. “I… I don’t know.” There were marks all over them, marks I’d never even seen before. There wasn’t anything living in the fields, no predators, not even rabbits. Nothing but berries. So this… This was something else. The claw marks stretched from their necks down to their stomach. It looked like a mixture of a massive three pronged claw tearing the fur and skin from the flesh underneath, and deep gouging wounds that had rent the flesh from their carcasses. There was nothing left of their stomach, or most of their backs and legs. They’d left the face, but they’d attacked the ears. In the stables, I could see the footprints of something with talons skulking away. Things, plural. There were dozens of pairs of prints. Where the terrified hooves of the goats shuffling away from the monsters in futility weren’t, the creatures made up for it. They were everywhere. When I turned back to the entrance of the house, there were tears in my eyes. The grooves in the ground went up to the front of the house. 

There was a claw mark in the door.

“How are we going to get milk?” Rettah asked again as he tugged on my tattered dress.

My heart sank. 

“We’re not,” I said quietly. “Come inside. Quickly.”

The supplies dwindled to nothing in the following weeks. I found myself staring out at the southern path and wondering if I should dare try to make it. My father had done it before, but he’d warned me. He never failed to say how dangerous it was that way, how it was just the same as beyond the forest. He could get resources, supplies, food, furs, but I could never follow him to wherever he got them from. The Wonderland forest was one thing, but a path to a land I couldn’t even make out in the distance was another. 

The feeling of nothing but water in my stomach was starting to make me question even that. I could make it, maybe. If I tried. The plants weren’t going to grow again. They’d withered in the sun, along with a lot of the berry bushes we used to pick from. There was nothing here. 

I turned from the window to gaze at Rettah. He was staring at the wall, unmoving in his chair, without even the slightest twitch in his limbs. My heart sank when I saw that familiar catatonic look. I rushed to the small boy, knelt, and tenderly caressed his hair. “Rettah?” I asked. There was nothing. I shook his shoulder gently, then harder as my pulse started to race. I couldn’t lose him. I couldn’t lose someone else right now. “Rettah? Are you there Rettah? Stay with me. I need you here, right now.”

When he blinked slowly, I nearly fainted against his small body. He smiled meekly down at me, looking as though he had woken up from a dream. Small hands rubbed my hair back, then dropped into his lap like limp, lifeless bones. “I’m here, Margy. I’m just hungry.”

I sighed in relief, and held his thin form against mine. He was here. I wasn’t alone. 

“I was terrified, Rettah. Don’t do that to me.” 

“I’m sorry. I just… I knew you were calling.” He pressed his head against me. His eyes started to water when he realized I was shaking. “I didn’t have the energy to call back. But I’m here Margy. I promise.” 

“Good. Don’t leave me, okay?” I caressed his cheek and held his head up to look at my serious face. “We have to stick together. We’re brother and sister. Mother and father always told us we would need to stick together. They’re gone now, but we’re still here, right?” I smiled a watery smile. “Family?” 

“Family.” He nodded without hesitation. “Family together forever.”

“We never leave family.” I needed him to say it again. “Please.”

“No! I wouldn’t, Margy. Never leave. You’re the best sister ever.” He hugged my head and pressed his whimpering face into my hair. I blinked back tears, and allowed myself a smile. The moment ended when his stomach rumbled.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered. 

“No, it’s okay.” I tenderly pulled away and took his hands in mine. “Maybe there’s a jar of jam left in the storeroom, and we just didn’t see it.” Slowly, I rose with thin joints that barely held my form, squeaking in protest as I finally made it up, then took his hand. “Let’s go look together, shall we?” 

“Okay!” He beamed, and we headed down to the cellar together. I gave him the last jar of jam I’d been saving for emergencies that day. I knew it was there. I knew it was half hidden away, still sitting on the shelf because a hairline crack down the glass made me nervous about whether it was still good. It was. Of course it was, Rettah was my good luck charm. The look on his face was worth it, even if I didn’t eat. I couldn’t stand to take food away from him. He had it on pieces of earthy potato and ate it like it was candied pecans. The stomach pains didn’t hurt, even as I watched him. I looked at my own thin wrists, and I knew I could withstand it. He couldn’t, and I would never let him suffer like that. I watched him eat, and I resigned myself to try again with the plants outside. More irrigation, further travel for berries… We could make it. I could bring back more food for both of us. 

The next day, the creatures returned. 

This time we could hear the noises in the night, and we knew what they were. The sound of screeching, squawking, of something kicking and clawing at the door. Rettah and I held each other. He cried into my arms as the house rattled against whatever was outside. I tried to hide my face, but I was crying too. I’d never truly believed in monsters until that day. Even after the goats, the occasional noises in the night, I never thought something like that could happen. I never thought that evil could be real until I heard the sound of a creature screech right beside the bedroom window. I kept wondering if this is what my father had told me to fear. If this is what waited on the other side of the forest. If the time had finally come, and we’d been too late. We couldn’t move. We were surrounded.

Everything was closed, there was no way they could get in. The shutters were locked, the door was barred, but even then, I had to keep reminding myself that it was the case. I’d locked everything up, but I still couldn’t remember half the time. I couldn’t tell if it was night anymore. It might have been day. There were no times between meals anymore, no way of telling. We stayed huddled in the bed, crying against each other until the hunger settled in and even that was too much energy to spare. He cried in fear and pain at an empty stomach, and I could do nothing to help him. The hunger might have been painless for me, but it was tiring. I couldn’t be there to suffer with him. Despite the fear, shock, and Rettah clinging to me with muted whimpers, I was starting to drift towards unconsciousness. 

“Rettah,” I murmured soothingly. “It’s okay. This house is magic. It’ll protect us.” 

“Magic?” He whimpered. I had no idea what I was talking about. Were those my lips? Was that my tongue moving?

“Magic. The door won’t open, unless someone you like comes through it. It’s magic, because it’s our home. We’ll be safe. I promise.” 

“Magic doors…” He smiled against my chest, and jumped a little less at the next screech. “Magic will protect us.” 

“The magic of family.” I couldn’t remember the rest. The two of us fell into an uneasy sleep, dreaming about magic as if it were real. 

The next day the monsters greeted our morning with shrieks and screaming. We woke up to the sound of those terrible things circling our house even still. The screeching echoed around us from every angle of the house, though the clawing had subsided. There was still the occasional kick to the door, the peck at a window screen they thought they could get through, but the house was safe. It was magic. We would survive long enough to starve. 

I gripped Rettah’s hand and led him to the kitchen. There were two potatoes left on the counter, shrivelled and half rotten and rocking against each other as the creatures sent another kick to the door. This, this would be our last meal. 

Rettah whimpered at the noises while I tried my best to boil the old root vegetables on the stove with the little wood we had left. His held his hands over his head, jumping at every kick and staying as close to my tattered dress as he could. He gripped the hem of the fabric I’d long since stopped trying to mend when I stepped away from the hob. He didn’t look at the food when I gave him the larger of the two potatoes, instead turning to me with eyes full of fear and confusion. “Are we ever going to be able to go outside?” He whined. 

“I don’t know,” I sighed, and stroked his matted hair. The older he grew, the more unruly the strands were. Once I might have teased him about it, perhaps told him to brush it out. But mine couldn’t have looked much better. 

We held each other, eating the very last meal as we listened to the world falling down around us. I didn’t know what day of the week it was anymore, what month, or year. I didn’t know if it was the morning or the afternoon. Eventually, time seemed to stand still as the creatures battered our house looking for the scraps they had once left behind. They wouldn’t leave. There were no goats to sate them. They wouldn’t go and I wished they would. I wanted to yell. I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw a temper tantrum like I should be able to. I wanted to tell them this was my house, and they weren’t allowed in. They’d me burn my dolls. They’d made me grow up. They’d made me my own parents. 

I wanted my father to ruffle my hair and call me crimson. I wanted my mother to smile at me. I wanted something to hold onto, so I held Rettah and I tried to wait for it all to end. The two of us were twin skeletons against the floor of the kitchen, too weak to cry and too weak to talk. The window in the kitchen rattled with a well aimed kick, and Rettah flinched into my arms. I hushed him. Rocking him stopped the crying, but I was almost more fearful of his silence. More and more he’d slip into a state of nothing. I was afraid I’d follow.

The next day I knew that it wouldn’t matter if they left. We’d still be too weak to leave the house. The sun rose in the sky for what felt like the last we would ever see it through the cracks in the shutters, and I found myself smiling. Morning, it was the morning. It was the morning, and perhaps the next morning we’d be able to see our parents again. We’d be a big happy family together. We wouldn’t have the house, but we’d have each other. Perhaps that would be enough. 

“It’s not so bad, Rettah.” I finally found my voice. His eyes fluttered when he heard me, but he didn’t open them. “It’s not so bad if we can’t find food. Or if we can’t leave. Mother and father will be waiting. They’ll be there. You can see his funny top hat again. Mother’s hair will be down, instead of in a tight bun. And she’ll be laughing. You’ll get to see her laugh. Mother was so pretty. Like a doll.” 

“Laugh?” He tried to smile, but his lips were cracked. A drop of water splashed onto his forehead, and I wiped my eyes of the tears. 

“She’ll laugh and pick you up and whirl you around and we’ll be happy together. There’s so much waiting for us. We’ll have the goats again, and my dolls, and you can eat all the berries you want. And we’ll be the biggest, happiest family.” I wanted to believe it. I had to believe it. “We won’t need to suffer much longer.” 

“I’m hungry, Margy…”

“I know,” I whimpered. I held him tighter. “I know. Me too. We won’t be, much longer. I promise.” 

The sound of yelling interrupted the two of us. It was a call to action, the sharp cry of a man echoed by the screech of a monster. The clanging of armor, then the clash of metal against flesh. The battle outside commenced, full of screaming, violence, and the sound of mutilation and death followed in its wake.

My stomach churned as I heard them. My heart was pounding. The shouts and orders kicked the adrenaline inside my little body up, and I pulled Rettah under the table with fear rising in my throat. If I had anything in my stomach, I would have thrown it up already. 

“What’s that sound?” He whimpered. 

“I don’t know.” I kept my eyes firmly on the door as the fighting continued. The screeching was pitiful against the yells and the laughter, the laughter of people destroying the very things that had plagued us. Something was killing the creatures out there, something Wonderlander, or human. I should have been grateful. I should have been opening that door and falling on their feet in desperate relief. There were people just outside our door. Strangers. No, there was nothing but fear clawing at my heart and telling me to run. Telling me that I should have brought the wood ax inside ages ago and done what I had to do, to my brother and then myself. I shouldn’t have let us suffer. I should have brought us back to our family while we still had the choice. Rettah noticed me crying again, and he struggled to his knees to place a kiss on my cheek. 

“Don’t cry, Margy. They’re killing the monsters.” I wanted to tell him I was afraid they were worse than the monsters. Father told me, he always told me, and I always listened. But he never said what I should do, if people came to the door. Not without him. He never told me what do to if there were no exits, if both of us were too weak to move. We were boxed in. Doomed. But I couldn’t tell Rettah. “The monsters are going to be dead, and then we can go outside.” 

“We can’t.” My throat was raspy. “We can’t. Father said no. Never… Never trust anyone.” 

“But they’re saving us!” He said with all his tiny broken voice could muster, but the harsh whisper fell to silence when the door was kicked open. 

“Hello?” It was a strange voice. Gravelly. I could hear the faint sound of jingling metal and the soft slipping noise of a blade into a sheath as the stranger entered the main room of the tiny house. “Anyone here?” He said again. I couldn’t stop shaking. My mouth closed itself into the firmest line it could muster, then I covered Rettah’s gasping lips for good measure. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates at the sound of the voice. He’d never heard anyone before, no one but father and I. And I doubt he could remember what he sounded like. This whole time it had been my voice. The sound of an adult’s deep and gravelly, authoritative tone was terrifying to me, and clearly entrancing to him. His hand slowly crept up my clamped arm, then tugged faintly. But I kept it firm. He couldn’t talk. He knew he couldn’t. Adrenaline pumped through our veins. Whatever energy we had left, it was being expended here.

“This place looks lived in.” Another voice joined the first, and I closed my eyes with silent sobs. The footsteps were the same. Two pairs of heavy, tactless boots knocking into our house and dirtying up the floors. They went to the center of our room, they looked at everything that was ours, and they spoke like they could have entered a forest for all they cared. Every hit against the wood made me wince. 

Then the footsteps drew slowly closer. Clunk after solid clunk against the floor was making my body break out into shivers that wouldn’t quit. Rettah felt me shaking in his arms. He tugged on my hand harder, but I couldn’t let go. I made the grip tighter, and slowly shook my head at him. He should have known better. Maybe father never told him, but I sure did.

The footsteps were in the kitchen. I could see them. Their boots. Metal laced with leather, dotted with blood and dirt and heavy and big. The hair on the back of my neck stood up in a way that the monsters could never make happen. The table wasn’t good enough but there was nowhere else to hide. We couldn’t run. For all we knew, there could have been more just outside. Even if we had the strength to run, we’d be running into their arms. I was staring down the point of an ax and I could do nothing but watch with my brother squirming against my grip. The one time he didn’t behave, and it was in a life or death scenario. Where had this energy come from? He looked like he was about to faint moments ago. 

“Do you think this is really the place? There’s bound to be others on this side of the forest. This looks like just another human hovel to me.” The first voice spoke up again. His large metal boots pivoted, and he began to slowly plod towards the stove. I held in a whimper. He could see the pot left from the boiled potatoes. Of course he’d see it. I was so stupid. I should have tried to run when we had the chance. I should have stopped all of this when I had the chance. We could have seen our parents again. It could have all been over. There was no telling what they’d do to us. To Rettah.

“If we don’t stop at every human hovel this side of the forest, then she’s going to think we missed something. And I don’t want to spend anymore time outside of the Capital than I have to. I’ve got girls what need me back to warm their beds at night. Takes a while, but I’m willing to do this thorough-like. Better than having to go back and forth.” 

“It’s a non-existent needle in a haystack is what this is.” 

“You best not be telling that to the Queen’s face.” 

“I would never fart in her Highness’s face in the wrong inflection and you know it.” 

The man’s laugh was harsh and deep. Nothing like my father’s. It was like a hissing creature, drawing air through his teeth and pushing it out the same way. My stomach tightened, and I held Rettah as tightly as I possibly could. They were strong, if they killed the monsters. We could never outrun them, let alone fight them. And a Queen? I’d never heard of a Queen. They had to have come from beyond the forest. They were evil. Just like father said. We shouldn’t trust them. I cursed myself, for waiting so long. We should have tried to run to the further forest ages ago. We should have tried to brave the wilds, lived off of what we could. It was my own habit that led to this. 

But maybe we could get through this. If we didn’t say a word, if I held onto Rettah as tight as I could, maybe they’d go away. They had to go away.

The first man spoke again. “This place looks ‘bit nicer than a hovel, don’t it? There’s an icebox. Looks like a cellar down there. No food, though. But look at the pot. Looks though it’s just been taken off the hob. Still got water in. And it’s cast iron too. Good quality.” I held in my breath. Seconds ticked by as both of the men stopped walking. The silence was unimaginable. 

“Anyone there?” The second man finally said. 

“You think that’s going to work?” The first asked.

“Better than nothin’. Any kids? You can come out, nothing to worry about. There a girl here? A human? You can come too. We promise we won’t hurt ya. Queen’s orders. Even a human, come on out. We’re just here to make sure. Hello?” 

Rettah’s squirming was getting worse and I couldn’t hold back my tears. 

“Promise we won’t hurt ya.” The first added. I gulped at the sinister tone in his voice, but that moment of shock was enough for my brother. The small boy fled my grasp, tumbling out from under the table before I could even scream. His stomach rumbled, he looked up, and he saw his first outsider with wide, curious eyes. 

I leapt over Rettah before he could speak. Bearing my teeth, I hissed and growled, did everything I could to dissuade the men in front of us looking on and… And… Laughing. I was shaking, barely able to stand and the two men with numbered tattoos on their faces were laughing that same hissing laugh that made my hair stand on end. 

“Look at this little she-beast eh?” 

“Stay back!” I croaked. “Go away!” 

“You needn’t worry,” The first man said. There was a number six on both cheeks, bold and black. His hair was a dull brick red, cropped short to make room for the cape twisted about his shoulders. On the pauldrons, gauntlets, and chest of his armor were elegantly designed hearts. Red and bordered by black wisping and tumbling leaves, the hearts bloomed as dark as blood. Small splashes of the real thing from the battle still dotted his otherwise untouched armor. He knelt to our level, and I tried to hiss at him while pulling Rettah back towards the table. He weakly pulled at my grip and whimpered a reluctant noise. 

“Margy, no-“ 

“They’re bad, Rettah!” 

“We ain’t bad.” The first man gave me a lopsided grin. “Margy, is it? I’m the six of hearts, my mate here’s the three. We promise, we’re here to help.” 

“Stay away!” 

“We got food,” the second man offered. Rettah’s eyes went wide, but I tried not to listen. I wrenched him back towards the table, but I didn’t realize how much weaker I was. He pulled out of my grasp and crawled towards them. 

“Food?” He whimpered. 

“’Course. What kind do you like? We got stew, some meat cooking, and the Queen’s got some lovely tarts.” 

“Tarts?” Rettah gripped the man’s leg and I gasped in terror. “I love tarts!” 

“Well, would you look at that.” The second man looked down to the first with a sly grin. “Takes after the Queen, doesn’t he? He’s a Hatter, through and through.” I could only watch in mute horror as the man gripped Rettah by the scruff of his tattered shirt, and slowly pulled him to his feet. The boy was a skeleton under the clothes already far too large for him. I thought that eventually he might fit into father’s clothes, when the time was right. But he’d only gotten smaller and smaller. The shirt hung off his shoulder, and the man with the six on his cheeks laughed as he pulled him up to eye level. “You’re a scrawny little bugger, ain’t you?” 

“I’m hungry,” Rettah whimpered. He didn’t try to fight back. He pleaded at the man with wide eyes, one trembling hand after another gingerly gripping the metal arm and holding it like his life depended on it. “Please, I’m so hungry.” 

I hissed when a thick arm grabbed me by the shoulder, but I couldn’t do much more than that. The man with the three merely chuckled as he carted me out of the house with Rettah and the six man close behind. “Calm down, sweetheart,” he said with the same hissing laugh. “I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re a little small for me anyways. No man’s a fan of a girl without any meat on her bones, and you’re a skeleton. Wonder how you even walk with what you got. Want me to carry you?” 

“Don’t touch me,” I muttered. I eyed the hand that kept itself firmly on his shoulder, but he wasn’t about to let go. He gripped it tighter as he angled me towards the open and broken door of our home, and I kept looking back to Rettah being help so roughly by the man behind us. I didn’t notice at first, what lay before us. I should have paid more attention.

An ornate carriage, extensively designed with hearts in every edifice and side, red and black, with the lightest gold trim, stood outside the cottage like it dared the small house to try and outdo it. Four horses snorted ahead of it, shackled like slaves to the front. The vehicle itself lay forebodingly in the wake of dozens of the creatures that the other men had cut down in their attempts to get into the house themselves. The monsters were birdlike. They once stood on two massive clawed legs that had since buckled into their dead weight, and they sported beaks almost as long as each of their toes. My eyes widened when I saw teeth hiding between the corners of one of their beaks. Their chalky blue feathers peeled away at their necks to reveal sightless eyes that had once surely contained animalistic hateful intent. The body was covered in thicker plumage, with small wings that ended in streaks of white.

“What are they?” I found myself whispering. 

“Some call ‘em dodos around the caravan. Old myths die hard,” the man behind me offered. “But they’re terrors, s’what they are. Never seen them until we went across the forest. Haven’t you seen ‘em before?” 

I shook my head numbly. “No… They just… They just arrived.” 

“Scary,” Rettah whimpered behind me, and I flinched. 

I was brought to the door of the carriage, and was made to stand as it was slowly opened to reveal the red velvet interior within. Thankfully, Rettah was dropped beside me so I could hold his hand. I squeezed it tight when I beheld a woman stranger than anything I could have imagined. 

She lay, rather than sat in the velvet seat that was offered to her. Across from her, a girl with hair as black as my mother’s stood with two silvery plates in her hands. One held something baked with red oozing from the corners, and the other was something that smelled like meat and herbs. The girls’ hands were steady, though the rest of her body trembled as she allowed the creature before her to select between them. The woman chose a pastry, then slowly turned her eyes toward the two of us. 

Her eyes were the most vibrant, daring green I’d ever seen. It was incomparable to the grass, the leaves of berries, even to the lime green strangeness of Wonderland forest. As she slowly rose to sit, the tendrils of mesmerizing, intoxicating red hair pulled away from her to reveal a pearl white neck. Long, languid embroidered fabric hung off of her thin and beautiful form. The dress didn’t do her looks justice. Nothing would. When she smiled, my heart leapt into my throat. 

If I had the energy, I would have run as fast as I could. She had fangs. The slightest fangs of something inhuman, just there if you looked. She was an ageless, alien monster more terrifying than any bird, any man, anything. She was beautiful. That only made it more terrifying. Infinitely worse.

She slowly moved closer to us, until she was half leaning out of the carriage and smiling with those horrific teeth. “You found them…” She swooned. “And they’re as perfect as I imagined. My, what sweet children. Are you hungry?” 

“Please,” Rettah looked like he was about to cry at the smell of the food in front of us. “Do you have tarts? I want tarts.” 

“Of course dear.” She held out a hand, and he took it without question. I tried to pull him back, but she was too fast. Far too quickly, she had him parceled into the carriage beside him and was handing him the tart she had so carefully picked from the silver plate. She turned to me, and smiled that same smile. 

“And you? Are you hungry?” 

“Who are you?” I whimpered, instead of answering her. Her eyes narrowed, but that smile remained. 

“I said, are you hungry, dear?”

“Yes,” I stammered. “Yes. I am.” 

She held out her hand. I was too hungry not to take it. 

I was placed beside Rettah just as the carriage closed behind us. The haze of hunger was getting to me again. I was tired. This could have very well been a dream. But when the meat and herbs were placed beneath my nose, I began eating mechanically and I realized no dream could taste this good. I didn’t even realize that the carriage was moving until minutes into the most delicious food in the world. The meat was succulent, tender, and still oozing with blood. The herbs were baked into it with butter and offered a gentle tang. The whole thing dissolved in my mouth, like sugar. 

“Both of you don’t seem to have any manners.” I could barely hear the Queen speaking over the roaring in my ears. Food was the only thing on my mind. “In the Capital, we do not eat with our hands in such a grotesque fashion. But we can rectify that when we get there.” She sighed, and smiled. “But it is lovely to meet the children of the Hatter. Really, I don’t think I would have expected any less beautifully bred Queen noble than this from him, even if he did mate with some human. I don’t see it in either of you. You’re both adorable. Especially you, sweet one.” I glanced up to see her manicured nails carefully stroke over Rettah’s hair. He was so busy eating his third tart that he didn’t even flinch at the touch from a stranger. She pulled something out from further back in the carriage, and placed it on his head. 

My blood went cold. 

My father’s hat. I would never have forgotten it as long as I lived. It didn’t fit Rettahs’ small five year old head. 

“Where did you get that?” I whimpered. She turned to me, looking less than amused at being interrupted from enjoying Rettah’s company.

“From the edge of Wonderland forest, of course. It appears the Jabberwocky got to your precious father. Quite unfortunate, but that is the way of things. This is all we could salvage. I would say it’s fate that such an heirloom remains alive and continues onto the next Hatter, no? And he’ll grow into it, don’t you think?” She slowly smiled. “The Queen of Hearts will always need a Hatter. That is the way it has always been, and always will be. How is that tart, sweet one?” 

Rettah looked up and smiled with pastry all over his face. “It’s sweet. So sweet. So good.” 

“There will be more where that came from. Pace yourself.” The Queen pulled Rettah into her arms, caressing his paper-thin arms and his limp bird’s nest of hair. “You’ll never have to starve again, now. Not so long as I have you. No harm will come to my precious Hatter. You’ll never want for anything.” With coos against his ear, Rettah ate the rest of his pastry and looked as sleepy as the day he was born. Across from us, the girl with black hair said nothing. She simply sat on the wooden stool allotted to her in the carriage, and waited to be called upon again to serve.

I looked down at my own food, and wasn’t hungry anymore.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this long ass chapter is worth it. 
> 
> Contains: The usual underage, exhibitionism, femdom, anal sex without preparation, incest, threesome, pain play, serious masochism plus cunnilingus/pussy eating, dirty talk, submission and minor gore.

QUILL

“Do… Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No.”

Lod reeled back as if he’d been struck, and I flinched as if I’d hit him. 

The three of us sat on my bed with the faint light of the sunset filtering through the half open window. A soft fall breeze made each of us shiver. Dragging myself back here had been all I could think of. The same faint yellow walls of my room offered something, at least. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. I thought perhaps curling up in the large four poster bed might help. My mind was scattered. I didn’t know whether to cry, whether to sleep, if I should be anything at all. But I should have known they would have found me. Jillian was the one that barged in, seated herself on the edge of the bed, and made Lod follow her like some kind of confidante. She took one look at my sallow face, the eyes that never left my feet, and the curled up nature of my body, and she refused to leave. 

“We can’t help you if we don’t know what happened, Quill.” Jillian murmured. It was strange to hear her try to sound soothing. She wasn’t very good at it. 

“Nothing happened.” 

“Quill…” Lod tried again. “We… We heard noises. And… Well…”

“Did you see?” Fear prickled at the edge of my neck. I finally looked up. The two of them had guilt all over their faces, and that only made it worse. My heart was beating faster and faster just at the thought of what they could have known. Had they seen me beg? Had they seen me agree with my father, finish in in his hand?

“No,” Lod said quickly. It wasn’t quick enough. “We just heard the commotion. If you wanted to talk about it, then…” 

“I don’t.” My eyes hardened, and I looked back down. I couldn’t cry in front of them. I was already weak enough. 

“Quill, don’t be an ass.” Jillian sighed, then languidly stretched her body over to mine until her arms landed gently around my waist. She pulled me into her lap before I could protest, then began to slowly work her fingers through my hair. Realizing I was stuck between them when Lod closed the gap, I merely curled up and ducked my head back into my hands. “If you never say it, then it’s just going to hurt more, you know?” 

“You don’t get it,” I murmured. “I don’t want talk about it.”

“We don’t get it,” she agreed, moving a few tendrils of hair away from shadowing my face. “So tell us. Did he hit you?” 

“Yes.” Lod’s eyes widened, and he moved tentatively closer. He was afraid to touch me. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, he looked between them and reached out, only to pull away again and looking even more unsure than before. 

“What? He hurt you?” 

“No- I mean – it was just once.” I curled up tighter. “It’s not as if he hasn’t done it before. If I do something exceedingly stupid, then it’s only fair. I… I could have handled that.” I could still feel his hands on me. I could feel the way he tightened his grip. The way he tutted and nearly put a finger inside. The way he made me talk to him, made me beg, made me- 

Jillian grabbed my arm when she saw I was about to cry. 

“Hey,” she said softly. “Hey. Talk to us. This isn’t like you at all, Quill.” 

“Please, Quill.” Lod pressed closer with wide, worried eyes. The tender and lightest stroke of his cheek against my face made me forget everything, if only for a second. He’d gotten over his fear, and it was a comfort I didn’t know I wanted. I pressed closer until our foreheads were touching. His breath heightened. Just being close to each other was enough to get him going. Maybe it would have been the same for me. But I just wanted to be close right now. He had no idea. Neither of them did. It was up to me to say it.

“He made me finish in his hand, Loddy,” I whispered to him. “He touched me, made me beg, and made me… He…”

Jillian’s grip had tightened, and Lod’s eyes widened to dinner plates. He pulled away, and I almost whimpered. “No,” he said in disbelief at first. It quickly grew and grew until he was almost yelling it. “No, no he couldn’t have. He’s your father. He wouldn’t – my father would never-“ 

“He did,” I muttered. “I could see how much he wanted me. But it was a punishment too. And then he started saying things to me. And he touched me. I was weak.” I hissed. “This is my fault, isn’t it. Because I was weak.”

“You’re not weak,” Jillian spoke behind me. Her grip tightened on me, squeezing until I had to squirm to get her to stop. I couldn’t hide away if she kept holding me like that. “Quill, you’re not, and that’s a stupid thing to believe. You really think jerking you off is a punishment? He’s your father. Even a slap is beyond what ours would do.”

“Then what was that!” I yelled at her, and wrenched away from her grip. The two of them looked so lost when I scampered to the other side of the bed and turned back with gritted teeth. I wanted to send them away. I couldn’t face them. They could get hurt too. “Why did he touch me, then? It’s my fault. All of this is my fault. I’m the one who kept begging, I’m the one that made both of you into this. If it weren’t for me, Lod would never have known about this until he was what, sixteen? That’s the age we’re supposed to be allowed. That’s the age we get entertainment girls and get to do what we want. Neither of you would ever have agreed to this on your own, not if you didn’t know I wanted it too. But I shouldn’t – I shouldn’t want this. I’m wrong. I shouldn’t – all of this is wrong. I’m not supposed to like it, so… So why…” I held up my hands. My arms were covered in bruises. I could see Lod and Jillian’ fingerprints etched into me like markers of what we’d done. I knew what every hand print mean, what position we must have taken. My neck must have been infinitely worse; I could still feel the faint heat of pain from what they’d done to me. It made me want to throw up now. How could I have liked being at the bottom of the barrel? How could I have begged them for it? The heat of tears settling on my cheeks only made it worse. They saw me cry. I didn’t want their pity. I wasn’t supposed to cry. I was supposed to be strong. And all I’d done was made a terrible mistake and brought them into this mess. 

“Father told me he did everything for me,” I whimpered. Wiping the tears only left room for more. “He told me that he wanted someone that would be strong. He married a strong woman, built up a strong empire – he did everything for me. He loved me, and I spit in his face. What kind of strong person likes taking it up the arse? What kind of strong person likes being hurt? No… No wonder he showed me what that leads to. Of course anyone would take advantage of me.” I had to laugh, even as I cried. “What did I expect would happen from this little gallivanting?” 

“You’re not weak, Quill. Stop trying to justify it.” Jillian shook her head, and the harsh sound of a growl died in her throat. “He’s an asshole and his logic is flawed. Something about him rubs me the wrong way. I didn’t like the way he looked at you either, before. We all saw it. It wasn’t right. Not like a father.” 

“But he’s right. This was supposed to be a punishment-” 

“You’re the one that started all of this, right?” Lod said tentatively, with a waver in his voice. “You said it yourself. So… You’re the strong one. You came up with all of this. You convinced us. And… And we’re happy like this, now. We were happy before. I liked it. You’re the one that unites all of us and I don’t know in what world that’s meant to be weak. You’re like a leader. More of a leader than he is right?” He was holding back tears. “Right?”

“Lod,” Jillian tentatively reached out to him. “Don’t cry, it’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not okay!” He cried. “Look what he did to Quill!” I stared in disbelief as my cousin began to break down on my bed. The tears welled up and fell in seconds as he began to realize the gravity of the situation. Snot blew from his nose as he curled up there, and began to sob. “Who do you go to when the father is the one that’s making the trouble?” There was a stutter in his voice. “Your father always said to come to him when something bad happens. Do we talk to mother? Could she even do anything? The people in charge did this. He’s the Right Hand. How can he get in trouble?” 

“We could go to our father,” Jillian grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into her lap instead. “Stop your blubbering. There’s solutions, and there’s different adults we can go to.” 

“Father’s doing the same to yours,” I said quietly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if your mother and mine knew about it as well.” The two of them looked to me like birds, their heads swiveling to me on a dime. 

“What?” Jillian finally said. “That’s not a funny joke, Quill.”

“That’s why he hated what I did. He’s the top. Our family is supposed to be the top. Always the top. We have to show that we are the superior family.” I bit my lip, looking further and further embarrassed the more they watched me. I didn’t want to have to be the one to tell them this. I knew their father. He was a quiet, kind man with a personality not unlike Lod’s. He was the one that gave us candies when he came back from the Capital. He was the one that made sure we didn’t get hurt when we went swimming in the pond past the gardens. I suppose I should have known it was the case. My own father would never subject himself to what I had done. What I had done, that… That was unforgivable, after all he’d built for me. “He told me, before. He was disgusted by the idea of Lod touching me like that. He made everything for me. He wanted me to be strong.” 

“So what, he did the same to you?” Jillian balked. “What kind of logic is he thinking with, the one in his little head? It doesn’t make any sense. If he wanted you strong, he would have sat you down and talked to you about it. Not touched you, not reinforced whatever position he thinks you have on this stupid ladder. Because it’s not real, and he just likes to pretend it is. He just…” Her face paled. “He’s a disgusting ass who wants to fuck his own son. We have to protect you.” 

“No,” I said sharply. “No. You can’t. He already said he was going to tell your parents, right? They have to be in on this too, he wouldn’t tell someone like me otherwise. If even a child knows, then he’s not afraid of me telling them. If we open that can of worms, only to find that we don’t have any allies on any side… We can’t – I can’t let you do that for me.” 

“Fine,” Jillian mumbled. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to help. Even if we don’t look to our parents for support, that doesn’t mean we can’t try to protect you.”

“I want to help,” Lod whimpered tentatively. His eyes were already drying. “I just… I don’t know how to fight a parent. Especially the Right Hand of the Lord.” 

I smiled a tired smile. “You can’t,” I sighed. “If you want to be there for me, after… I’d appreciate it. But you can’t fight an adult. You shouldn’t.” 

“We can’t let you stay like this. What if he does it again?” 

“Then I deal with it.” 

“Look at what he did to you, Quill.” Lod reached out to gently touch my shoulder. The faint sting from where it had been bitten over and over again sent those same familiar shivers down to my groin. Half of me wanted to wretch. The other half of me wanted to barrel him over and forget about all of this. 

I was worse than I thought. Seeking refuge in both of them. Seeking pleasure, knowing they’d both jump at the bit to make me happy. I’d trained them well. It made me sick, but I’d never be able to fight it.

“There’s a chance he won’t do it again, right?” I said softly, knowing I didn’t believe it. I crawled towards Lod until he realized what I was doing, and he flushed. He uncrossed his legs, so I could sit in his lap. Jillian held onto her brother from behind and rested her chin against his shoulder. “Maybe this was a warning. A warning not to do it again.”

“I don’t know.” Lod looked unconvinced. “But if he looked at you like that, like…” He didn’t want to say it. It made his cheeks hollow and his eyes flick away from me. “I don’t think he’ll stop. And-“ I kissed him softly, and his eyes went wide. 

“Quill!” He pulled away quickly and nearly knocked Jillian in the chin.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed. I could feel Jillian’s gaze on the both of us. “I keep… Seeing the same things over and over in my head. I can’t get them out, no matter what I try to think about.” I trailed down to feel my own cock lying half hard in my pants. I hated it. I knew why it reacted. It wasn’t Lod, and even if it was, it was wrong. But the growing urge to throw up was only combated by my cousins’ temperate expression. He was sweet when he tried to look like he didn’t want me. I kissed him again, and he mutely sat there and took it. His eyes flicked over to where I was slowly massaging my own erection, and a flush rose to his cheeks. Reluctance was clouding over again.

“He did things to me, Lod. Things I can’t unfeel.” Even now, I could recognize that touch. I had finished from my own father. I had begged him. I’d agreed with him. I’d let him do what he wanted to me. I let him hold me after. I sought out his comfort. If this wasn’t a punishment, if this wasn’t meant to be some kind of lesson to be learned, then I’d willing brought myself to my own father. I could have ran. I could have hid. But I let him touch me. 

I could never tell Lod just how much I’d wanted to finish in the end. Just how lost I’d felt when my father left me to pick myself up and find my way back on my own. How much I wished he had just stayed there and held on. Like it was a joke, some silly mistake, and we could hug and laugh about it after. Even if it was real, just the comfort of being in his arms was enough. I could ignore the disgust. I could ignore all of it if he just cared enough to hold me. 

“We should talk about it, then,” Lod whimpered. “Not this.” 

“I don’t want to talk,” I whimpered. “Lod, my mind is swimming and this is the only thing that seems to make it stop.” Tentatively, I glanced up to him and kissed just under his shivering chin. “Can we move past this? Can you help me try to forget? Every time you touch me, I feel a little less…” I didn’t know what to say.

“Quill, I know you’ve never been one to think about things before doing them,” Jillian spoke up. “But this isn’t something you should ignore.” I dropped my hand from my crotch. 

“You don’t understand.” 

“No,” she agreed, then pulled me into her arms with Lod at my side. She was tall enough to hold both of us together, if we squeezed into her lap. A set of arms a little larger than our own held us together like peas in a pod. She pressed a kiss to my neck. “You sound like a broken record. Of course I don’t. My father didn’t touch me. But… if nothing else is working and this is the only way to help, then we will.” 

“Jill!” Lod squeaked in indignation.

“What else can we do?” She argued. “We can’t fight the Right Hand, and he’s got our own father in his pocket. It doesn’t matter if our mother or his learns the truth. What’s the worst they could do, leave their respective husbands? It’s not as though they have any power. And the Left Hand of the Lord is a joke. We can’t use her either. It’s just some woman that pretends to control the economy. Big deal. That women gave all her power to Quill’s father years ago. She’s no better than the other subordinate women here. There’s no one we can go to, woman or man… That’s why I want to be Hand. I want to show people that I can be strong. That the Lord nobility is capable of great things. But-” She turned back to me, and a wicked smile slowly crossed her face. Her hand trailed from grazing my battered shoulder, down to my hip, and slowed when it reached my groin. A single touch and I already felt like melting. “You’re to be the next Right Hand are you not, Quill?” 

“It could be either one of us. Lod could be Hand.” I watched her massage the obvious erection that bulged from my trousers, tried not to squirm too much. Her hand moved slowly, languidly over the to the edge of the tip. She knew me well enough to know my little cock was already leaking from something so simple. I couldn’t help it. I moaned softly against the touch, pressed back into her comforting form, and bit my lip. Whatever I might have thought before, it was gone. I could smell her scent, and Lod’s right beside. He was watching me like a hawk, his mouth slack and his face slowly growing in a blush he couldn’t control as his sister played with me. Her touches got stronger, a little rougher, but I just couldn’t sit still. I pressed my face into the crook of Lod’s neck, and let Jillian do as she pleased. 

“If you keep squirming like that, I won’t be able to do anything,” Jillian murmured. “I can’t even reach the waistband.”

“What are you doing?” Lod murmured. He only now seemed to get his voice back as the spell of quiet was broken. “Jill. You shouldn’t.” 

“I bet Lod would make a good Right Hand,” I breathed against Lod’s neck, then pressed my lips against his gulping flesh. It was cold and clammy. It always was, right before it got hot with arousal. Jillian tucked her hand under my pants and began to run a finger over my shivering cock. It was small in her hands, even when hard. I supposed I’d have to wait for my own growth spurt. “He’s good with numbers in tutoring.” 

“There’s more to the Right Hand than numbers,” Jill reminded me. “You have to have the charisma to deal with the other Right Hands. Those meetings are brutal, I’ve heard. Especially to Lord nobles. They seem to think we’re the butt of some joke that everyone else got told but us.” She squeezed me at the end, and I gasped. I found myself grinding back into her breathlessly and barely catching her words. Her hand was warm, but I was warmer. 

“Lod,” she purred. “Do you want to get behind him? You can sit in my lap.” 

“Jill, that doesn’t sound very…” Lod craned his head back at her. She smirked. 

“I can keep you still.”

“So you can feel me fucking him, you mean.” He didn’t sound completely against it. 

“Would you rather Quill lie in front of me? Then I could kiss him senseless.” Lod blushed, then shook his head. 

“I don’t mind changing positions this time,” he mumbled.

“You never get anything out of this, Jill.” I blinked up at her, still panting from her hand. She was jerking my cock insistently, squeezing at the tip of the glans and feeling for the precum that she slid as lube over the rest of my length. “Why are you positioning us like dolls to face away from you?” 

“I’d rather watch. You think I don’t do my own thing when we part ways?” 

“Well, what if we wanted to watch too?” Her hand paused. Lod was whimpering, I was grinding into the touch that I so desperately needed, and she was watching me like I’d suggested something more taboo than usual. 

“You’d want to watch me?” 

“At least.. I want Lod. I always do. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you too.” 

I was surprised to see her look so flustered. There was a growing red on her face that seemed to mirror Lod’s, and it was starting to dawn on me just how alike the two siblings were. “That’s rather presumptuous of me, getting in the way of this puppy love.” She said with an awkward grin. “I could have any slave I wanted. I don’t really need you. How about you two fuck the shit out of each other instead? I’ll just watch.”

Lod was as quiet as ever, but I just sighed. If she was too nervous, I wouldn’t make her. 

“Lod.” I turned around back into Lod and tugged his sleeve. He’d found his way into the curve of Jillian’s body, and I could plainly see the bulge that he was trying not to draw attention to. But Jill saw, and so did I. We were trained on it. He should have learned by now that his cock was usually the star of the show.

“I don’t know about this,” Lod said tentatively.

“You never know about this.” I grinned. “Maybe after, we’ll do something for your sister. Right?” 

“… Okay.” What? He never agreed to anything so easily. 

“Really?” 

“Jill’s with us too,” he said tentatively. “You’re right.” I sat shocked for a moment, but quickly realized that questioning it would just lead to my dear cousin going through another series of second guesses that he was known for. Instead, I just smiled, and set to work.

His ears were red as he slowly unearthed his slick throbbing prick. It dripped precum in excess just at the thought of what we were going to do. I couldn’t help but stare. All the things we’d done together, I’d done with this cock. 

I tugged my own trousers down to my knees as quickly as I could, then moved closer until I was settled into his lap. His cock pressed into my stomach. 

“Look, Lod,” I muttered. I stroked along the head and listened to him whimper, then pulled it closer until it was resting firmly up against me. “See this length, brother?” I purred the last part, and was rewarded with a muted moan.

“Quill, stop it…” He was adorable when he was embarrassed. 

“Look how big it is. You’ve gotten bigger than before. You never seem to stop growing, but I can still take it all the way down to the base, can’t I?” I prodded the head teasingly, and felt his body flinch. The glans was shivering. 

“Quill…”

“You trained my body well,” I murmured. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be satisfied without it filling me up, you know.” 

Though embarrassed, he still was straining against me, his cock pulsing with need. He wanted inside me and I couldn’t say no to that. My brother wanted to fuck me and I would listen to anything he wanted. The way he looked at me, like he wanted to eat me alive through all that fear an embarrassment and tentative nature, I wanted melt under it. He could tell me to lick his shoes, and I probably would. 

After making sure Jill was watching, I carefully angled the cock. Slowly pushing down on that bulbous head was the most satisfying, electric part. He was ripping me to pieces, and I could feel every second. My ass always struggled when it hadn’t been properly prepared, but that only made it better. Worse. Same thing. Tears filled my eyes as the pain of being stretched grew in my stomach, straining every muscle. It was immediate, burning, harsh, and I wanted more. 

“Lod, thrust it,” I whimpered. “I got the head in. Hurt me, Lod. Please.” I pressed my face against his chest. “Fuck me, Lod.” 

“Quill,” he gasped. “I don’t-” He thrust without meaning to like some untrained overexcited dog. I could barely hold onto him. Rough, shallow movements of someone that had been kept in a cage for too long. It had been less than a day, and he was already fully willing to break me to get a little pleasure of his own. He grabbed onto my waist too hard, small and thin in his hands. I could pretend he wanted to break me, that he wanted to hurt me, make me into nothing more than a hole, and all I could do was cry. “Quill, you’re so tight. I feel like I’m going to break.” 

“It hurts,” I whimpered by his ear, then bit down gently on the flesh. A shudder ripped through him as he arched his whole body. The thrusts broke through. He was deep. Achingly deep. With one thrust, he forced the cock out of me to the head and I felt like he was taking my own guts out with him. 

“You’re bleeding again,” Jillian observed. Her eyes were calm and narrowed in pleasure as she dropped her face to mine. 

“I never seem to stop,” I whimpered. I tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. He wasn’t relenting. He wouldn’t stop. He’d seemed to have forgotten what he was fucking, and now he just seemed to want to go as deep as he could go. I gasped with every rough, painful and visceral motion until my eyes widened as Lod finally bottomed out inside me. He paused for a moment, his breath hitching, and the two of us shared a brief moment of realization over what he had done to me. “Fuck… Jill…” I whimpered. 

“What is it, Quill?” She smirked, and pushed a lock of hair behind my ear, as though that would make me look like less of a fucked mess. “You look really cute like this, you know. You should get fucked more often.” 

“He’s all the way in,” I whined. “He’s never been this rough before.” 

“Really?” She pressed a kiss to Lod’s nape, and chuckled when my cousin could only groan in response. “He seems to be finding it hard to think. Do you want him to go easier on you?”

“Never. Don’t break him out of it. Jill,” I pressed closer into Lod in a desperate bit to get closer to Jill, and inside I felt like I was getting rearranged. “Can you… Can you kiss me again? Please?” My voice cracked at the end. Lod had begun thrusting again. Slow, deep thrusts repeatedly pushed his entire cock deep into my guts, his mouth panting like a machine in making sure that meat of his was thoroughly inside. With a bruising grip on my hips, he rocked over and over, thrusting with deep penetration slick with blood and precum as he make my body memorize every inch of him. My toes were curling. I could barely breathe. He had no idea what he was doing to me. I’m not even sure he was thinking anymore. I was being stretched. Pulled apart by my brother’s cock. 

Jillian pushed her tongue into my mouth. I let her lead it, she could do anything she wanted. She pushed my tongue to the side, invaded with her own, laughed when I whimpered into her mouth. After pulling away with my tongue hanging out and my mind faraway, I leaned back into Lod and kissed him instead. 

He barely reacted. His entire body was a machine, forcing me up and down and doing the same. So embarrassed moments ago, now it seemed like he wanted nothing more than to make me suffer. I was panting, keening against every brutal thrust and he was only getting faster, rougher, and more desperate. Jillian stared at our connection where Lod’s cock ended and my entrance began, and she licked her lips. It was enough to drive me over the edge.

“Lod,” I whined, pressing my face into his neck, splattering over his chest and clenching as hard as I could around his insertion. That didn’t stop him. He kept moving, faster, harder, until the tightening of my abused ass finally caught up to him and he was groaning, biting into my shoulder as he finished inside of me. 

We stayed like that for a while, gasping and shaking. Half embarrassed, I slowly raised my hips until his spent cock slipped from inside me with a wet plop. The cum mixed with blood dripped out after in thick rivulets down my thighs and onto his softening prick. I stared at it, growing redder by the second, and tentatively reached a hand down to assess how much he’d messed me up. It stung. I’d live, but it would take more than a week for this to heal. 

“Fucking hell, Quill,” Jillian half moaned. I’d never heard her sound like that before. I blinked up at her, going a little redder when I saw where her eyes were. Tentatively, I spread my legs further apart to show her just how stretched out I’d become. 

“It’s… Ah…” 

“Fucking hot is what it is.” 

“What happened,” Lod groaned softly. 

“You bloody well destroyed your brother is what happened,” Jillian purred. 

“What? Cousin! He’s a cousin! Stop doing that, both of you!” he cried indignantly, but there was nothing behind it. He was utterly spent.

Half trembling, I gently nudged Lod to the side and slowly crawled up to Jillian. She watched the both of us with pure lust. She was so entranced in Lod’s dreamy face and how much he’d broken me that she didn’t realize what I was doing until I tugged at the hem of her dress.

“Hey, stop that.” Jill quickly pushed the frilled fabric back down. I lay my head against the inside of her thigh and groaned softly. Every movement made me ache. 

“What, so you can do whatever you want to do when you and Lod bugger off to your separate bedrooms?” 

“Yes. I don’t need your help.” 

“It’s not fair,” I nudged my face closer, and tugged at the hem of her dress again with my teeth. Behind me, Lod looked as lost as ever. He still hadn’t figured out what I was doing. I wasn’t sure he knew where he was.

“Quill, I don’t need it,” she insisted. But she wasn’t stopping me. The closer I got to what lay between her legs, the more she tensed up. Her eyes were wary, full of temptation and fear. She was a mess of nerves. I never expected Jillian to be the one out of all of us that would ever be afraid of sex. I almost felt lost, myself. It was weird not being ordered around by her. 

“Jill, it’s okay.” I looked up at her and smiled tiredly. “It’s just Lod and I. You don’t mind if Lod watches, do you?” 

“This is weird,” she muttered. “Bloody weird…” But she shook her head that she didn’t mind, and finally seemed to get a proper grip on those frayed nerves of hers. Slowly, she lifted up the frills of her dress to show that she was wearing nothing underneath. My heart leapt into my throat. It was right there. Right in front of me. I’d never seen one before. I thought I’d be seeing one when I turned sixteen perhaps. But this was different. It was real. And Jill’s. Perhaps there was some kind of madness in my mind. Perhaps I was bleeding out. But that slit of hers was so wet, she had nearly soaked through her dress. It was slightly parted to reveal the inside. I had no idea what to do with it. I just knew I wanted to do something. Anything. 

“Stop staring at it,” she growled. There was a whine in the back of her throat. Before I could respond, she grabbed me by the hair and shoved my face into her waiting gash. My eyes widened. “Lick. Suck. Don’t bite or I’ll kick you in that weeping cock of yours.” 

It smelled like cock, tasted like precum, and I knew I’d been here before. I didn’t think, I just listened. Licking at those folds was the first thing I tried, but she was quick to move my face into the position she wanted. Her hands were shaking, even if she was being rough. 

“There. Right there. Not there, you idiot, there. Fuck- THERE.” She breathed out a shrill moan and rocked her hips when I finally found the spot she wanted. Her legs closed around my ears, her hand forcing me deeper and deeper into that leaking slit until I had my nose mashed against something that made her flinch with every touch. 

“That’s right,” She moaned. “Perfect. Fucking hell, Quill.” She laughed nervously as she grinded my face into her and felt me licking harder. “You might be an amateur, but you’re a good- nnh – listener.” A shiver tore through her as I sucked on the hood of what I presumed was her clit, and she pushed me back down before the feeling got too intense. “No, there. There. Good – good boy,” she gasped.

I tried purring, and her moans got considerably louder. I could barely breathe, but I didn’t care. I looked up at her, shaking and flinching with every touch, listened to her laugh when I licked a part of her that obviously had no reaction, and I almost smiled. 

I felt Lod press up against my back, and I was suddenly safe. Between them letting Jill fuck my mouth however she wanted with Lod panting and holding onto me for dear life, I felt like I was home. 

“Fucking hell, Quill – good boy – just like that, harder, come on.” Jillian breathed in sharp whines between every rock of her hips, and smothered my face in the juices that wouldn’t stop flowing from between those milky legs. I had no idea what I was doing, but she didn’t seem to care. I kept my tongue out, my lips closed over my teeth, and she used my hair to direct me to whatever part of her she wanted. I whimpered faintly as I tried to gasp for a breath, but she just grinned that evil grin of hers and held me down. It wasn’t as effective when it looked like she was starting to come apart at the seams. 

Her hips were moving faster and faster, I could feel Lod’s breath tickling the back of my neck, and before I knew it, she was nearly screaming my name and arching her entire body into my open mouth. 

She slowly fell back against the bed with a muted whimper, but she was smiling. Her hand loosened enough for me to pull away to gasp for air, but she was pulling me back into her arms a moment later with a grip so strong that she must have thought I was trying to get away. Lying back on the bed until her form was nearly hanging off the side, she brought my head up in the crook of her neck. 

“Okay. That was good,” she muttered. 

“I told you!” I whined as I wiped my mouth off of all her arousal. “You don’t have to be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” she grumbled to herself. “I just like it better when Lod’s fucking you. Right, Lod?” She looked back at her brother, then went considerably red when she saw his expression. 

His jaw was half open, his cock already starting to harden again. His eyes half fevered, shaking faintly himself, he seemed to be trying to put words together but gave up halfway through. He was full of nothing but pure want. And his eyes, they were focused entirely on Jillian’s slit left uncovered in the aftermath. 

“Lod?” She whispered.

“I… I…” 

“You want to go next?” I grinned. 

“No, I… She’s my sister, I couldn’t!”

Jill chuckled as she shook her head in disbelief, then lay back down and sighed, listening to his gibberish of excuses and pleads. “It’s alright, Lod. I liked you watching me.” That shut him up. She took another few gulps of air, still trying to catch her breath from the aftermath. “If you wanted to try it too… I guess I’d let you” She nestled her chin against my hair to try and hide her embarrassment. But I could see that she was avoiding looking at him, even if she was smiling. “It’s not like we hadn’t tried other things. It’s just… I don’t like being the center of attention is all.” 

“You deserve it sometimes,” I tugged her hair teasingly. “Besides, Lod and I pull enough pranks on you that it seems like it’s only fair we get a little punishment in return.” 

The word suddenly pulled at me. Wrenched me, more like. In one second I was the happiest I’d ever been, and in the next, memories were flooding back far too soon. This was all a farce. A façade. I still remembered. I don’t think I would ever forget.

I wasn’t sure how, but Jillian seemed to catch it. She pulled me closer into her arms and pressed a kiss to the top of my nest of hair. 

“It’s okay, Quill. I’m right here. It’s not a punishment. But I like playing these games. Right, Quill? You’re having fun too, right? We’re all together here, right? One big happy family.” 

“Right…” I smiled weakly. “Big happy family. Right. I know. Lod, com here.” I held out my hands for him. He was too far away. He clambered into the heap of us awkwardly until he ended up on the other side of Jill, curling into her side and purring like a kitten. 

“It doesn’t matter what happens,” Lod said softly. “I’m not going to let anyone pull us apart.” 

Jillian nodded adamantly. “He’s right. We’ll always be here for you Quill. Come to us, and we’ll be here.” 

I smiled sleepily and nodded along, but deep inside that fear still prickled inside. I loved them both as much I could of anything, but I knew they wouldn’t be enough.


	9. Chapter 9

MARGRET

The Queen wouldn’t let us see the city. No matter how many days, weeks we stayed huddled in that carriage and listened to the growing voices of people all around us, she refused to let us open the door and look out once the voices grew around us, along with the sounds and smells of more people than I had ever imagined. There could have been anything out there. I heard screams, laughs, moans, and calls for prices of food. They all spoke like my father had, but the words they used were utterly alien. They talked about money I’d never seen, laughed about jokes and political positions, courts, festivals. So many people, so many voices. Old, young, rough, sweet. There was an entire world our there beyond that door that I wasn’t sure I wanted to open. I wanted to see other people, certainly. I wanted to be free of the stranger next to me that so obviously had ill intentions. But when the word slave crossed the lips of one of those people, particularly loudly in an atmosphere of buying and selling as if it were just another sack of grain, I went green and sat back against my seat. The food I’d eaten in the weeks of us returning to this Capital of hers hadn’t sat well with me. It was bad when we’d gone through the Wonderland forest and lost several soldiers along the way, and it was bad now. But it was worse in that moment. 

“Two hundred for the boy, that’s right, do I hear two hundred? Lovely sir, and do I hear two fifty- a three hundred ma’am? Excellent choice. Anyone else? Four hundred over there! Good choice sir. And remember, just a few more years and he’ll be perfect breeding stock. Good for all the carnal pleasures too, if you know hot to break him in! If you like them young, he’s the one to beat!” 

I didn’t want to go outside. I didn’t want to go outside. I didn’t want to go outside. 

“I want to see,” Rettah whined. He sat by the door with his luminous eyes on the latch. It jilted with every movement as the carriage navigated the cobblestone streets. But his hands were still there, just poised below it. The hat that had been his father’s was lopsided against his mess of red hair. 

“In a little while, dear one,” The queen breathed more than spoke. I had been about to grab him, I swore it. But in that moment, my hands didn’t work. I was too busy listening to the terror outside. “The world out there is not ready for one as daring as you. You’re far too sweet for the likes of them. And you could get lost, you know. And you need your strength back. As much as you’ve grown with food, it will be a while before you return to a healthy weight, no?” 

“We never agreed to being taken here,” I muttered. “We never agreed to anything. You could let us go.” 

“Where else would you go?” The Queen barely turned her head from her languid prone form over the indulgent silk cushioning of the carriage. 

“Somewhere else. Anywhere.” 

“You had nothing, dear. Poor Rettah was little more than bones, and you were no better.” Every time she said his name, I would shake a little harder. I glanced to the servant girl that shared the room with us, but she watched on with an absent expression. Waiting for whenever the Queen asked for lunch, I supposed. 

“We were dying. But father left this place for a reason.” I glared defiantly at the woman that seemed less and more than human, but all she did was purse her lips and smile like there was a secret hiding between them. 

“Your father was a bit of a child when it came to things that he wanted.”

“You’re lying.” 

“It’s rude to interrupt the Queen, my dear. I knew your father very well. He was the previous Right Hand of the Queen, you know. In charge of diplomacy and the like. A well trusted advisor of mine. But what you may not realize is that he was quite happy here. Before everything else, before he left with that whore and left me behind to deal with the scandal, he was content to eat, drink, and be merry. He loved this place as much as he loved his Queen, little one.” She sighed a deep huff of air that had filled her lungs until it could hold no more. “You may have gained a father, but I lost a great man. Always so fun at parties. Never a dull moment, drunk half the time and horny the rest. A wonderful lay in bed. They say he was legendary, now that he’s a legend. I can attest to that.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Oh. Oooh…” She sat up so suddenly that the servant girl stirred into action like a clockwork doll, and moved to quickly make sure every prepared food was in place should the Queen want her lunch early. “He kept you innocent.” 

“What?” I looked at her incredulously. “No he didn’t.” 

“What’s going on?” Rettah wandered back over to his seat with one last longing look at the door and kept his hat steady as it slid around. 

“You and your sister aren’t particularly well versed in one of Wonderland’s staples, are you?” The Queen chuckled. It was slow, deep, and unearthly. 

“I know how children are formed, if that’s what you’re asking,” I spat. “I helped take care of my mother. And father told me what he had to do. Don’t patronize me.” 

“Such big words from a little girl.” The Queen gathered up the silks of her dress, then moved forward. My words died in my throat as she approached, leaning forward slowly until cold hands were grazing my cheeks and I could only whimper. “But that is only the beginning of what fucking can do to a person. To have a child is to ensure the continuation of a family line, certainly. All Wonderlanders require such a thing to ensure our position remains strong over lesser creatures. But sex, well… You’ll learn about that soon enough. I’ve made this world in the image of pleasure that Wonderland needed all along. We needed a little release, here. Playing to the demands of a child with a broken mind grew taxing. Her death was the greatest thing to ever happen to Wonderland. Now it’s so lovely, so… Beautiful.” She took a moment to stroke over her own face, and smiled. “And you’ve spent far too much time running around in the woods and fields pretending that slit between your legs is only for urine and babies.” Her smile was insidious, but when she turned to Rettah he seemed to lap it up with a blind, happy grin. 

“You’re still a little young.” She tried to tuck the hair in his face behind his ears, but it bounced back into the same position a second later like it had never been touched. She chuckled. I was resisting each and every moment that urge to throw myself at her and see if I could shove her out the door of the carriage. But if we ran, if we got out that door, we’d be somewhere utterly alien to us. We’d never survive, and if this Queen had even an ounce of truth in the fear mongering she told me, then that place was infinitely more dangerous than the carriage. And Rettah was happy. I couldn’t ignore that. I couldn’t pretend the way he smiled at her wasn’t genuine. I couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t caring for him in a way I never could. There was food here. Safety. 

That monster gave him everything I never could, and I could only watch. 

The door of the carriage opened to reveal a building far larger than anything I’d ever dreamed off. They called it a castle. I couldn’t think of a better word for it. The black and red brick, the lighter colors of stone, the floods of people all dressed in red, and so many with the same hair color as ours. It stood at the top of a hill surrounded by a courtyard filled with flowers of all shapes and sizes. Birds of beautiful rainbow feathers perched on a white trellis of blood red roses. Their plumage caught the sun and caused a kaleidoscope of color to rain down against the shade of the sun. The oppressive heat seemed to go on ignored by everyone around us. Women in heavy petticoats puttered about like it was a brisk chill morning.

Below us the rest of the city stood, and I finally got to see the cobbled and old ruinous world that she had kept hidden away. Its dilapidated state was hidden by the brightly flying banners and painted crenulations that littered every nook and cranny, but it was unavoidable how lopsided it was from up here. Some buildings appeared to be little more than a child’s drawing come to life. Nor was it hard to deny how grey, and… Dead they looked. The decorations of blue, grey, yellow, and red hid it well, but there was an absence of color, an absence of life that I could feel, not just see. But the castle, that was one thing that wasn’t lopsided. When I turned back to face it again, I realized that I was looking into the maw of an animal that was more than ready to swallow me up. The jaws were the massive double doors held open by more guards dressed in hearts, allowing the stream of greeters to meet their Queen. 

The moment we arrived, we were surrounded. Women with brown and black hair carefully took stock of Rettah and I while the Queen was tended to by swarms of ladies in waiting. It was a sea of red hair, braided with ribbons and their clothes held red crests of hearts on their chest to match, but not outclass the sheer magnificence of the ethereal woman before them. Their sashes around their waist matched their hair, some in red, some in black, and still others in silver and gold. They may not have all matched each other exactly, but it was difficult for me to tell the difference between one smiling face and the next. Everyone wore black and red and white. Everyone seemed so happy. Everyone had hair in the shade of a raspberry, whether that be pale to near purple. I always thought my hair was less vibrant than that of my father and brother, but I was beginning to realize that my hair might have just been some of the brightest around us. And if I stood out, that meant Rettah was a sore thumb. 

The flock of red hens didn’t stay in my attention for long. Human women dressed in a similar way to the Queen’s servant crowded around Rettah and I with looks of worry and concern, tutting at our arms and poked my side before I could flinch away at the sudden contact. I tried not to snarl, I tried to dully take it, but I couldn’t help it when they were refusing to let me get my bearings. I couldn’t even think. There were too many things. Too much to focus on. 

The Queen only had to hold up a hand of dismissal, and we were whisked away into the awaiting maw of the palace before us. I had no time to think or breathe. There was a woman holding me by the hand and leading me through the palace. I whipped my head around to see Rettah beside me, but that soothed my nerves little. We barely lingered to see the hauntingly large throne room in front of us before we were brought down a corridor to the right, then the left, then a set of stairs. Everything was clean and polished. Moving bodies everywhere, too much to see. I couldn’t look fast enough to take in the servants, the décor, the overwhelming red that was around every corner. There were smells of food, shouting quiet whispering, loving words behind one door and screaming behind the next. Servants parted like an ocean for us, but I could still see them all before me with wide eyes as I was dragged past and I just couldn’t take in the color. I couldn’t take in the tapestries that hung, decorated with embroidered designs and epitaphs of the Queen’s accomplishments. Of myths of the original Alice and of a world that might have once been or else never was. But then I was swept to the side again and forced to look at something else before I could watch it for just a half a second. 

Rettah was getting further away. He was already far down the hall, and getting smaller and smaller. I’d been so busy trying to figure out the shock of the world around me that I hadn’t noticed they were trying to separate us. 

“Don’t touch me!” I snarled as I wrenched my hand back from the woman’s shocked expression. My heart was thrumming in my chest when I realized how far away he was. Almost out of sight.

“My lady, we need to have you looked at and cleaned.”

“Not without Rettah.” He was gone, being dragged further along towards a different room by a different collection of women. I tried to run after him, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. The muscles had atrophied too far, and I could only make it feet before collapsing against the thick carpeted floor of the hall. “Give him back,” I whimpered. I tried to crawl towards where I’d last seen him, but I wasn’t nearly fast enough. They were disappearing right before my eyes. Rettah would be gone. My throat closed up. Rettah was gone. They’d taken him away from me the moment they could.

“My dear,” The woman who had taken my hand gently pulled me to my feet. When it was clear my legs wouldn’t hold my weight, she lifted me into her arms herself. “Your brother will be alright. He needs to have a bath as well. Special care needs to be taken for the both of you, so we wanted to give you the chance to rest separately-”

“Please. You can’t take him away,” I choked. “I need him. I just need to stay with him.” 

The woman and the rest of her flock looked nervously from the door they were about to enter into what was presumably my own room, then back at where the scarlet haired boy had disappeared. With a soft sigh, she followed after them. She wasn’t quick enough. They were gone. I couldn’t see them. But I didn’t have the energy to go faster myself.

“We really should be cleaning you separately,” she murmured. “You both are in need of urgent care. The doctor needs to take a look at you, and you should be eating sparingly. I’m just glad the Queen didn’t let you gorge yourselves.” 

“I need to see Rettah,” I maintained with shaky breaths. At least she was listening.

“Your brother should be fine, you know.” She smiled faintly at me, but I wasn’t looking at her. I was too busy straining to see where he was. “He’s a nice boy. He’s only been here a few minutes and he’s already been so charming. He was almost as bad as you were, but he was smiling the moment he stepped out of the carriage. I don’t understand why you’re so prickly.” I hadn’t noticed anything. I didn’t care if he was charming. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe.

“Rettah. I want Rettah.”

“You really care for your brother, don’t you?” The woman tutted. “We’re nearly there, don’t worry. I can only imagine what you’ve been through out there in the wilderness. You weigh hardly anything at all. Why, I feel like a Wonderlander, being able to carry something so easily. It frightens me. How did you manage to survive like this?” 

“I don’t know. I just want Rettah.” I steeled my eyes towards the end of the hall and scanned it for any sign of my brother. The woman sighed. In the back of my mind, I knew she wasn’t a danger. But I couldn’t focus on her right now. I had no clue as to what was happening. Only Rettah kept me from falling apart at the seams. 

Then she turned into a room, and he was there. At the first sight of my brother, I desperately tried to pull away form the woman to get to him. 

“Rettah!” 

“There’s food, Margy!” Rettah helped up a strawberry tart that he had swiped the moment he’d been led into his room. He was already half disrobed, taken care of by the servants that tutted and smiled around him. The broken top hat still hung halfway on his dwarfed head. Bathwater in a clawfoot tub lay ready and steaming for him, in the center of the massive open bedroom ringed with silks of red and black and a window wide open behind him to light up the space with a hot sun. The massive bed was off to the side to make room for the tub, covered in soft, light looking blankets. He was placed on a chair, enjoying the spread of food they’d brought with them for his enjoyment. The meats and savory items had been ignored in favor of the tart pastries he couldn’t seem to get enough of. Waving his feet back and forth, he held a tart tinged red to my shocked face, and smiled. 

“Do you want some?” 

“Rettah…” 

“What’s wrong, Margy?” His pants were neatly undone and pulled from his emaciated form by a cooing woman, but he kept his eyes on me. Behind him, women worked back and forth, chatting to each other in earnest as they tried to decide what he should wear after his bath. “You look scared. But there’s nothing to be scared about. We have food. And look, a warm bath! I can’t remember the last time I had a warm bath.” 

“Rettah, this doesn’t feel right.” The kindly woman that had led me to Rettah gently placed me onto a nearby chair and began to unclasp my dress. A few others behind her hovered, brushed at the knots in my hair, and whispered between them. I couldn’t catch what they were saying, but I didn’t like it. “There’s something wrong. Did you see the town?” 

“I did!” He beamed. “It was so big. Bigger than anything. I’d love to go. I’d bet it’s full of people. I’ve never seen so many people. Just people, everywhere. And red hair! So much red hair, just like us.” He smiled at the girl that was trying to untangle his rats nest of hair, then offered her a tart. “Tart?” 

She blinked in surprise. There was a hunger in her eyes, but she shook her head. “No, sir. You need the food far more than any of us. You need to recover. Your poor stomach is concave.” 

“I can have half and you can have half. I’m not hungry anymore anyways. The Queen fed me lots and lots.” He broke it in half, then handed a crumbly mess of a piece to her. His eyes were shining so brightly with determination that she resigned herself to taking the sticky crumbles and quickly eating them before resuming her duties. Before anyone could see. 

“Like that!” I said. “She’s hungry. Why aren’t they feeding you? What’s going on?”

“Dear,” the woman who had brought me here began to say, but I kept talking. The guttural tinge of nervousness wasn’t going to stop me.

“Why were we shoved out of our home and brought here? Why are there slaves? Why were people buying them? Why are you being forced to take care of us? My mom was a human. She ran away. They both did. We shouldn’t be here! The Queen is cruel, and… and strange! This isn’t good, this isn’t- it isn’t right!” 

The flock of women stopped. Slowly, each face turned on me until there was a sea of black and brown eyes focused only on my face. None of them were smiling. Some frowned, some looked on with suspicion, and still others looked almost… Afraid. My throat was closing up again. 

The kindly woman was the first to gently touch my shoulder and smile. “It’s alright, dear. What was your name again?” 

“Margret,” I muttered.

“I’m Sylvia. A pleasure to meet you, Margret. Now let’s get you a nice hot bath with your brother, some warm food, and then get you into some presentable clothes, shall we?” 

The spell had been broken behind her. The women were back to cooing at Rettah and sliding him into the awaiting bathwater with enthusiasm from the chirping boy. He was more than happy to accept something so warm and inviting. The only one that seemed ill at ease now was that hopeless lady pulling and brushing at Rettah’s hair trying to untangle it. Even as thin as it was from the lack of food, it was still hopelessly knotted and sticking up every possible way. She resigned herself to her fate, buckling down with tensed arms as she went over the same patch again and again with little to no results. No one said a word to me.

I was placed in the bath across from Rettah once I’d been fully undressed. The lady taking care of my hair was tutting more at how thin and dull it had gotten, and less about how difficult it was to untangle. 

I was offered a tart, but I turned it away. My stomach was still churning. These people and their smiles had me on edge. I could see the looks in their eyes. They were waiting for me to explode again. Waiting for me to say something else that was sane enough to be scandalous. I kept my mouth shut. I just wanted it to be over. I could see my mother’s face in every one of theirs, but I couldn’t do anything about them. Not if they looked at me like I was a danger when I finally spoke up. 

I couldn’t understand why. These people were slaves. They had to be. The way they bowed their heads with a noble women entered the room to check up on us, listened to the orders of feeding us and putting us to bed as soon as they were finished. I’d never seen anything like it before. Quiet submission. Like they’d accepted this was where they were meant to be. They waited on us hand and food, but even when Rettah and I were fed, they took nothing. They didn’t even feed on the leftovers when they were taken away. Which isn’t to say that Rettah ever stopped offering them food. He smiled that adorable smile of his and would hand anyone that looked even the tiniest bit hungry the better half of his food, much to an elder servant’s chagrin. But they couldn’t exactly reprimand the person they were meant to defer to. So, they kept quiet, and they made sure that no other noble saw when they took food from a starving boy. 

I tried to feed them. They didn’t even dignify it with a response.

When I yelled loudly enough that there was no way I was going to sleep in a room without Rettah, they complied. They listened to me. I was just a child, and they listened to what I had to say. They did everything I wanted. There was a power to my words. If I expressed distaste, if I asked for something else, they’d jump at the bit to acquiesce. But they wouldn’t dignify this. They wouldn’t admit it. 

I held Rettah in my arms the first few nights. He’d gone to sleep the moment the world around him ceased to buzz with cooing women that were so intent on doting on him. I could only stare at the wall across from us dancing with moonlight from the faint breeze of an open window behind us, and cry. I was silent. I didn’t want to wake Rettah. There was our home out there, somewhere past the Wonderland forest and in the green and yellow fields that I had grown to hate over the last year. We could have died there. We would have. But we would have died somewhere that was home. Not here, not in a palace filled with strangers and people that were enslaved that looked like mother, and a terrifying monster with red hair that called herself a Queen. But I couldn’t do anything else. I was just a child. A little girl. I couldn’t fight the very things that father hated. He had told me always to never go here. To never pass the forest. To never see what’s on the other side, never to talk to strangers, and never to even think of what might lay beyond our little world. It was too late for that. He never told me what to do if our house was gone. If there were monsters attacking. If we ran out of food. If Rettah was starving. He never told me which mattered more. Rettah, or staying away from the evil. 

I looked down at Rettah. He was the one thing that showed me I’d made the right decision. His breathing was soft, slow, and far less erratic since he’d gotten more food in him. Even through travelling, he’d grown in size. He wasn’t the skeleton I’d seen him as, now he was getting close to a skinny six year old boy’s physique. I could only imagine what I looked like. I didn’t really care. What mattered was Rettah was thriving. And that is what reaffirmed me I’d chosen right. We could brave the evil, as long as we did it together. 

I wanted to believe it. I held Rettah tighter, and I almost did. 

Over the next few days, we were put through the same steps over and over by the same human women taking care of us. Waking up in the morning, breakfast, bathing, a quick exercise through the grounds. The beautiful world around us hid away the city down below when there were massive walls and a cliff to the ocean keeping one from looking over the side. We instead were entitled to beautiful flowers on vines, fruits of all different colors and flavors, massive tropical trees towering stories high, an overwhelming abundance of roses that made themselves into a little hedge maze near the center, and noble after Queen noble enjoying the premises with little huffs and smiles here and there. Sea birds flocked over head and landed in the orchards of oranges and limes with white plumage spreading before them before they tried to swoop down and steal a leftover pastry. On a quiet day, the sound of the ocean could be heard far below the massive cliff edge that bordered this castle on a hill. A few trails led to the side of the castle on cobbled paths, but we were always kept a close watch. We were to enjoy the garden. To smile. To walk. To exercise the muscles and the mind. 

Then eating again. More eating, with periods for exercise to work the muscles back towards something more comprehensible. They knew what they were doing. The faces would change periodically as new servants took over while the other servants were placed on some other task, but Sylvia remained the same. She seemed to be one of the elders of the servant class, leading the younger women through what needed to be done to take care of young noble children. There didn’t appear to be any official positions. She just showed them that they must always listen to us, that we could not be ignored, and that other than the Queen, our orders are what they must follow. She didn’t say this in so many words, but I could feel it in the careful spider web of looks and expressions they interchanged with each other. There was a secret language going on before my very eyes that I could only catch glimpses of. It didn’t seem to matter how we acted, they’d never stop smiling. As long as I never brought up the question of their servitude, they would listen to anything I asked of them. I was ordering around my mother. Every time I was asked what I wanted, I felt sick. 

“Miss Margret, why aren’t you eating your steak?” Sylvia asked by my shoulder. I looked up at the woman and her neat, tidy bun, then pushed away the food and sighed. 

“I’m not particularly hungry, sorry.” Across from me, Rettah’s plate was piled with all of the sweetened pastries and fruits he could find. His sweet tooth knew no bounds, and now that he had the ability to eat anything sweet he wanted, the only thing stopping him was the doctors that checked on us regularly and informed his caretakers of the dangers of only feeding him sweets. They’d supplemented him with some sweetened meats, milk, and more fruits than he could ever consume. He didn’t seem to mind. He reacted to everything with a charming boyish smile and never failed to offer the women around him at least half of what was on his plate. If he was eating, everyone else around him had to be eating too. 

“Why not, dear? You have barely been trying any of the food for the past few days. Your brother’s appetite knows no bounds, but you’re just picking at it.” I wasn’t surprised that Sylvia would say something so bold. She might have been the only one of the servants that actively spoke like a mother, rather than a submissive servant. Her elderly nature and general ranking above the others was the only reason. I kept being reminded of my own mother. She made me calmer. Like she had chosen to be here. Like she actually cared about me. It was a lie, but it was enough to get me to take a few more bites of my steak and potatoes. 

She smiled. That looked real enough. If I squinted, maybe I could see that it didn’t reach her eyes. But then, I didn’t want to squint. I didn’t want to see what was real, and what wasn’t. 

Perhaps that was what kept people here from going insane. 

“I don’t like it here,” I muttered. 

“I’m so sorry, miss.” Sylvie tenderly stroked my shoulder, then leaned down to my eye level. “What do you want? What would make this place better for you? We’d be happy to help. The both of you are such sweet, charming children.” 

“You can’t do anything.” I couldn’t bring up slavery again, it was a useless endeavour. They’d just stare at me like I was insane, and then Sylvie would have to say something again to bring them back. Instead, I watched Rettah devour half a peach, then hand the other half to a young servant girl that was only a few years older than me. I smiled faintly at Rettah, and found the energy to eat a few more bites off own my plate. “I just… As long as Rettah is happy, and we’re together, I’m alright. ” 

“Margret, dear, about that…” She stroked comfortingly over my shoulder. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine my father. But those bittersweet memories made my eyes sting with tears. “Rettah and you are going to start attending tutoring lessons in the coming weeks, as soon as you both achieve a healthier weight.” I waited for the bad news. I could hear it coming, so I looked her in the eye, and I waited. She faltered at this, but tried to remain smiling. “The Queen has decreed that your brother is to be the future Right Hand of the Queen, and so has quite the schedule lain out for him. He must be tutored in all aspects of the Kingdom of Hearts as well as the others, in order to prepare for this position. It’s very prestigious.” 

“What?” I stared at her in disbelief. 

“Right!” Rettah beamed. “Beatrice told me about it, right Bea?” He looked up at one of the older women, her hair carefully braided and looped around her head. She smiled primly, but it was faint and she was far more focused on trying to comb out his unmanageable hair. Weeks into it, and they still hadn’t given up. “I get to help the Queen.” 

“That is correct. You’ll be learning all about diplomacy, foreign relations, and cooperation with the other Hands. It’s a very important position, so it’s always best to start early. That’s why the Royals pick so carefully who will be Hand, you know.” Bea’s voice was one full of coughing and wretching barely held back by a firm willpower. She must have been terribly sick, but it couldn’t have been contagious if she was allowed alongside us. “It means the Queen trusts you above all else as well. She must love you.” 

“And you, Margret,” Sylvie hummed. “She has plans for you to be the Left Hand, you know.” 

“I don’t want it.” Alarmed, I flinched away from her and nearly flipped my food over in the process. “I don’t want to help the Queen.” 

“Dear, it’s not as bad as you think it is.” Sylvie looked back at me in worry, but she said nothing on my reaction, instead stilling my plate and putting my utensils back in proper position. “The Left Hand focuses on the economy and trade of Wonderland. You could help the Capital grow prosperous and strong. It would help everyone if you were to take control over that position, not just the Queen.” 

“I don’t want to.” I bit my lip. I couldn’t say anything more. I couldn’t say why. Sylvie knew that. She could see in my eyes how hard I was trying not to alarm the other women that were already staring at me. The hollow look in her eyes proved it to me. This was no suggestion, or ask. This was an order from the Queen herself. One I couldn’t refuse. 

I could still feel her fingers on my cheek. Cold, silken fingers. 

“Regardless of where you end up, miss, wouldn’t you still like to learn?”

“I…” I looked to the food uncertainly. “I don’t know. I… I guess.” 

“It’ll be fun, Margy,” Rettah chimed in. He wasn’t smiling either. In fact, he seemed quite alarmed at my reaction, worry etched in his expression that seemed altogether too serious with a broken crooked hat on his little head. I couldn’t have him worrying. I couldn’t let him think something was wrong, and it was just me. He was having the time of his life, and I was ruining it for him. 

“I’ll try,” I muttered. But I’d lost my appetite again. “At least we’ll learn together.” 

“That’s the issue, miss,” Sylvie intoned. “The tutoring is for two separate kinds of learning. The Queen wanted you two apart for that. She believes it’s better to start specified from a young age.”

“Of course,” I said bitterly. I stabbed at my steak, but my hands were shaking. I couldn’t cry. Not in front of Rettah.   
“It won’t be so bad,” Rettah smiled tentatively at me. “Maybe we can both make some friends. Wouldn’t that be fun?” 

“Fun,” I echoed, then grimaced as I met his gaze. “As long as you’re happy, then I don’t care what happens.”

“But Margy,” Rettah tentatively pressed closer from across the table, and lay a hand down on my shivering fist. I stopped, then slowly turned to look him in the eye. I couldn’t cry. Not here. “You’re not happy here, are you?” 

I tried to smile. “I’m happy that you’re safe, Rettah. And that you’re happy. You’ve never smiled so much before.” 

“I’m happy, but all you seem to do is frown.” He lowered his eyes. “And you don’t like pastries, so I can’t offer you anything. I don’t know what to do to make you happy too. Is it something I said? Something someone else said?” 

“No- not at all!” I grabbed his hand with both of mine and clutched it as tight as I could. “I love you, Rettah. I just want to protect you. And this place is new, and scary, and it’s full of things that make me worry. But that’s all I’ve ever done, all my life, right?” I grimaced. 

“Then stop worrying, silly!” He smiled. “We’re safe, now. There’s no one to hurt us. We have friends everywhere, and family too. Everyone with red hair is like one big happy family. Like the Queen! She’s the prettiest person.” 

I tried to ignore my heart dropping. “But I can’t exactly stop worrying. It’s not something I can turn off.” 

“But can you try? For me?” He blinked up at me with imploring eyes, those big lashes almost alien. Pretty green eyes. Just like father. Just like me. 

“I’ll try,” I finally sighed. “I’ll try really, really hard for you. I want us both to be happy. To be safe. Every time you’re not in my sight, I’m so terrified that you won’t be safe. I never want to let you go.” 

“I’ll be okay. I have all of my friends here.” The women behind him twitched, but he didn’t seem to notice. “People are looking out for us now. We’re not alone. We’re safe. The Queen is keeping us safe. And the Queen knows that we’ll do better if we get tutored separately, right? She knows best. I promise, I’ll always come back to you every night. Always.” 

The Queen was keeping us trapped. Trapped, fed, and kept. And because of that, Rettah was smiling. Rettah was going to get an education, he’d make friends, he’d get to enjoy all of his favorite foods. And he was alive. And I had to let it go. 

I let it go. 

I smiled, let go of his hand, nodded to myself, and went back to my meal.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains: Underage, exhibitionism, deepthroating/throatfucking, blowjobs, mindbreak, pedophilia/pederasty, breath play, non-consent, abuse of power and trust, and dirty talk.

QUILL

“If you believe you know everything, Quill, then teach it to me. Truly, I’d like to hear it.” The tutor glared down at me with nostrils that flared up in unbidden hostility. His glass glinted in the candle light as he pointed to his study guide, then quickly covered any answer with a thin gnarled hand. The wooden table was large enough that I could have sat across from the man and kept his worries at bay that I would ever try to cheat him, but he insisted on my staying at his shoulder, so close that I could smell the hookah pipe still on his lips. Probably a gift from the Capital ages ago. I had to resist rolling my eyes. If I did that, I knew a smack to the head would be just what the doctor ordered, in his mind. “This is basic knowledge, you know. You should have already learned this ages ago from prior tutors. It can’t have been their faults, so it must be yours. Just look at your cousin.” 

Across from our table in the cheerily lit room, Lod sat at his own station with his tutor in front of him, both in the depths of conversation. Between us, a large window showed the brisk fall day outside, and the courtyard that I wish I could have been in. Anywhere but here. 

His tutor preferred Lod sit across from him, and they chatted amiably more than taught. Yet, whenever Lod was called upon to answer a question from his tutor, he seemed to get it in an instant. He rocked back and forth on his chair with a small smile, and the kindly old man in front of him seemed calm and subdued. Today, Lod was being taught by one of the few Lord nobles that ventured out into the world simply because they wished to. He’d spent most of his time in the Capital, teaching children in one of the academies under the thumb of the Queen. I supposed something had dragged him back here, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. He was used to children, at least from what I could observe. Happy with them, even, when compared to the whippet of a man that sat before me. This one’s glasses were pushed sharply up his nose, long blond hair pulled back in a thin ponytail. He wasn’t old, but he was more than mean enough to make up for it. Wrinkles lining his forehead were from frowning, not age. His muddy brown eyes peered over me with cruel anticipation. 

“You haven’t told me the answers, sir,” I tried to explain as calmly as I could. Picking apart at the frayed edge of my sleeve, I didn’t keep eye contact with him more than I had to. Too little and he grew annoyed. Too much, and he thought I was challenging him. I preferred annoyed. “I can’t recall what the secondary exports of each of the four kingdoms are.” 

“This is review for a boy your age, especially one that has the intention of being the Right Hand. This lack of respect for your elders is appalling.” The tutor wrinkled his nose and pushed the papers further away, as if I were thinking of trying to grab them. 

“So you want me to guess?” 

“Are you talking back to me?” He narrowed his already beady eyes to slits. I glanced up at him to see that rage building on his face, but looked away before it could blow up in front of me. “You might be the son of the Right Hand, but that does not give you the right to speak to your elders and betters like you are one. You are in training, boy. You’re no Hand. And the fact that you put such little effort into trying to review the information you should already know means that you are disrespecting me even further.” 

“I know, sir. Sorry, sir.” I picked harder at my sleeve, until the edges began to fray. I already knew the answer to his damned question. I should have, at least. I could remember talking to Lod about it before. We’d reviewed time and time again, but even then I hadn’t much of a mind to think about it. I hadn’t much of any mind lately. And looking out at that window just made me want to run, far, far away. I was blanking, and I couldn’t do anything to rectify it. There was no room in my mind for schoolwork these days, not when everything was already about father. 

If only the man knew. If only he realized just how much I was thinking about the Right Hand. But no, I doubted he would care. I doubted the damned Lord would care. No one had seen him in months. The throne room has remained silent but for the Right Hand and his brother taking care of things. My uncle… No, he was complicit. My mother, oblivious. Lod, Jillian… Helpless. I couldn’t tell my cousin what had happened. He was right across the room from me, laughing and enjoying a tutoring session that played to his personable strengths, and I couldn’t take that away from him. What would there be in telling him? More tears, more desperate futile attempts at trying to solve problems, maybe a little sprinkle of the brief idea of running away. Where to? All of my life was here. 

The picking subsided as I recalled the memory. We’d all enjoyed ourselves, in the end, in that bed. We played together, again and again. And I forgot about father completely. I started to think that maybe it had been a terrifying, twisted dream I’d had. Jillian and Lod never brought it up again, and in a way that was both a blessing and a curse. When I was so busy enjoying my cousin’s company and basking in the afterglow of orgasm after orgasm, I never had to think about just why they were pampering me. But then I found myself questioning all of it. 

It took waiting two days for the other shoe to fall. 

The door had opened quietly. Long after Jillian and Lod had left, as they always did, to their own rooms. Long after everyone else in the castle should have been asleep. Only a few hours before the bread began to cook in the kitchens and the servants prepared hot water for morning baths, and the rooster started crowing far off in the distance. I don’t know how he knew I would be awake. I didn’t know why I still was, still staring at the ceiling of my room and thinking of what may come tomorrow. I had a smile on my face. I was happy. I was naïvely thinking of what Jillian and Lod might have planned for tomorrow.

Stupid. 

“I’d thought you’d be with your two accomplices,” he’d said, and then he’d walked into my room without so much as an ask for entry. “Or asleep, perhaps.” I sat up straight in my bed and stared at the figure cloaked in darkness. There was a small hiss, and then the candle by my door lit up with a warmth that held onto my father’s sharp features. He was in nightclothes, like he had just left my mother’s side. They still slept in the same bed. I wasn’t surprised. 

I held my breath, my heart beat speeding up the more he stared at me in silence. Perhaps he’d come to apologize. Perhaps he’d come to explain himself. He must have. In the middle of the night, maybe some guilt had taken hold of him. Maybe he was afraid. But I looked into his eyes, and all of those thoughts died away in the chill. 

“No, sir.” I’d said softly to him. I didn’t look him in the eyes again. I couldn’t stomach it. I couldn’t bear it any longer. “They left hours ago. It’s very late at night, sir.” He took a step forward and my heartbeat jumped with it. One slow step, not tentative, but purposeful. There was nothing tentative about my father. He couldn’t be.

“And yet you’re still awake,” he’d muttered as he inspected the tossed-up sheets of my bed. I hadn’t slept, but that didn’t mean I’d lain still in silence. I just hoped he wouldn’t see the blood that I’d stained it with earlier in the evening.

“I couldn’t sleep, sir.” He was right in front of me. The candle was at his back, and his face dipped into shadow. His golden eyes stared down at me, like pools of molten gold. Long, heavy hands lay dormant at his sides, but then they twitched. I could see the strain in his shoulders as I clutched at the thin sheets of my bed and waited for what he decided to do. 

“No? Why is that?” My father sat down beside me, and rose his hand up to my arm. He squeezed it, as though it were a comfort. I couldn’t stop staring at the foreign touch. There was fire on my arm.

“I don’t know, sir.” Tentatively, I glanced up to look at his face, for any kind of change. I risked looking him in the eyes. 

It was hunger. 

“Quill,” he murmured. “There’s a way to help you sleep, you know. Leave you knackered, pleasantly sated.” 

“… I don’t mind not sleeping, sir.” 

“Fine.” He narrowed his eyes, then climbed further into my bed and sat across from me, his legs crossed and his eyes hardened from any playful tone they might have had. His posture had changed. There was a lion at the foot of my bed. “You don’t need to sleep? Then you can make yourself useful instead.” 

“I… I…” My mouth had run dry. He’d sat on the bed like some kind of child, but then he’d started to untie the strings of his trousers, and that innocent fantasy was gone. His hands worked deftly at the strings. I couldn’t look away from the clear bulge in his pants. Had it been for me? Or had my mother decided she didn’t want to do anything that night? He could have had her. He could have just woken her up. Or my uncle. Anyone but me. He didn’t need me. He didn’t have to do this. 

I wanted to disappear. 

“Come here, Quill,” He beckoned me closer with his free hand, and my body moved of its own accord. I found myself in the arms of my father just as before. Shaking, wishing for anything else, and hating that the gentle stroking of his hand against my side was the most comforting thing I’d felt in a long time. It was strange, not even Jillian could make me feel like this. A part of me missed when I was younger. When I was little more than a tot and he held me in his arms like a father should. I kept pretending that is was benign, that he simply wanted to soothe my nerves. I couldn’t understand how he made me forget about anything else. Like he was the center of my world, and all I had to do to survive was to listen. 

It was almost enough that I didn’t jump, when he pulled out the massive length that was his own adult erection. Topped with a fine blond hair that matched his head, far too big, and beating red from… Me. My vicinity. My nose immediately wrinkled at the sight, but I didn’t dare say a word. I just listened, to the sound of my father’s breath, the slight hitch when I stared at his cock. 

“Do you know what to do?”

“No, sir.”

“The same as I did for you.” He grabbed my hand in his own, then placed it on the beating heat of the cock. As soon as I touched it, my stomach heaved. Still, I said nothing. Not even when he began to move my hand slowly, back and forth on the twitching, flinching length, not even when he made me tighten my grip, and not even when he let his hand fall away so he could watch me do it by myself. 

I got to work. I did what I had to do. I pressed closer into my father’s chest, half hiding my face with the smallest whimper in the back of my throat as I stroked over the cock that I couldn’t get my hand all the way around, up to the tip where I squeezed until he barked a rasping breath to stop. I did what he asked. I hated that I knew what to do. That I’d done this before, and I understood just what he wanted out of me. I gripped harder, moved my hand faster, and at one moment, licked my hand before continuing to keep from the friction growing too strong. I dared to look up to see what his reaction was. 

A predator looked down at me, his eyes filled with want. “You’re doing well, Quill,” he muttered breathlessly and pushed his face up against my ear. My face flushed when he spoke. “No wonder Lod wants you so badly. You have a body made to be broken.” 

I turned away and tried to ignore the growing heat on my cheeks, even as he nibbled my ear. He was happy with me. Almost smiling, or perhaps it was his teeth gritted to keep himself from moaning. But his hand was on my head, stroking, pushing me slowly closer. Slowly, I found myself moving towards that massive thing, something with thick hair and girth and size and everything I wasn’t. I didn’t resist. I didn’t feel it within me to try. He nudged me ever closer, caressing and teasing me towards him, and in the end I did it before he made me have to. I pushed my lips around the head of that cock, widened my jaw as far as it could go, and swallowed him in my mouth.

My father moaned. It only took a few more strokes, and my cheeks were filled with his semen. 

He kept my head firmly down on his cock until I’d drank all his seed, but even after his orgasm had coated my throat, he wouldn’t let me leave. His cock slowly softened under my tongue as his hands ran through my hair with a gentle fervor, whispering something so quietly under his breath that I couldn’t here. He only let me up when he was entirely soft. 

“Open your mouth,” he ordered. I did as I was asked.

He held my jaw and turned my face up for good measure, then smirked in satisfaction. 

“You didn’t spill a drop. You’re truly meant to be a cocksleeve, aren’t you?”

I said nothing. Any illusion of care had been broken. I was staring at my own father, with taste of his cum still in my mouth. Tears prickled at the edge of my eyes. 

“Quill?”

“… Yes. Sir.”

“What are you, Quill?” 

“A cocksleeve, sir. I’m meant to be a cocksleeve.” 

“And?”

“I… I like being a cocksleeve. For you. S-sir.” My own words felt like hot irons on my mind. 

“You’re meant to be here, aren’t you?” He asked rhetorically, his eyes narrowed on my face, stroking my chin. “Your position belongs at the bottom. I supposed I raised a failure. But you’re no different from your uncle.” He tutted. “You’re still useful. And you’re still sweet. Adorable, even. A cute little slut.”

I could only sit there in shock as he pressed his lips against mine. I’d just tasted him. I was dirty. He shouldn’t have. But he was kissing me, pushing my face up against his, lovingly embracing me like I was his wife. His tongue pushed into my mouth, and my world went white. 

“Quill!” The tutor snarled and slammed his fist onto the table to emphasize it. I turned to him in shock.

“I’m sorry, sir.” I blinked blearily. “I… I didn’t hear you.” Far across the room, the outburst had finally alerted Lod and the other tutor that anything was amiss. Both of them turned to see, but the elderly man turned back without so much as a second glance. His kindly eyes flickered cold, but returned to the same jolly expression when they settled on my cousin. That stunned me nearly as much as my own tutor. A sinking feeling grew in my stomach, that no matter what happened, I wasn’t going to get any help from him. Lod lingered, his eyes meeting mine for a second, sympathetic but helpless as he turned back to his own work. 

“No? Where is your mind, then? Stuck in the clouds?” 

“No, sir.” 

“No, it wouldn’t be, would it.” His frown turned into a nasty smirk as he drew closer to me, until his face was inches from mine. “I suppose it would be deep in thought about fucking your cousins, eh?” 

My ears were ringing. I stared uncomprehendingly at the man, but I couldn’t hear what he said after. He was smirking, talking, but I couldn’t think to hear. Dimly, I could feel the hairs on my neck standing up, but everything suddenly seemed to be so far away. 

“… father too, huh?” I only caught the last part of his sentence as the words started to appear back, one by one. But even then I hoped to God that I had misheard him.

“I… I’m sorry, sir?” The words leaving my mouth like slugs on my tongue.

“Seems you’re fucking everyone in the castle, these days.” The tutor looked over his notes, then peered at me with eyes that were far too familiar. A chill went down my spine when he stopped looking at my face and started trailing down my chest. “Including your own father, it seems.” 

“I… No, I…” 

“I wouldn’t try to deny something like that, you know.” He frowned at me. “Enough people have heard and seen you and your cousins. None of you ever seemed to want to keep it a secret. And I’ve heard some interesting stories from your father, himself. Seems he doesn’t mind sharing how disciplines his child. It’s a shame, really. I expected great things from the son of the Right Hand. Acknowledged by the Lord, recommended for Hand as well, and with that bright yellow hair and eyes. The spitting image of a perfect noble. But it appears that all you seem to do is open your legs for the nearest man that will give you what you want, now is that right? Or, I suppose, a girl in the case of your cousin. But she’s always been a problem child. Probably likes to pretend she’s a man anyways, with those big hands and feet of hers.” 

“I don’t understand,” I whispered. 

“What is there to understand? Boy, you reap what you sow. And you’ve sown yourself the field of a manwhore. Your father has been at your wits end with you, from what I’d heard. Apparently you’re a lost cause, unable to have any sort of backbone. That’s what you get for being the bottom of the heap. Which I suppose is why I can’t seem to teach you anything.” He pushed his books to the side and sat back against his chair with a sigh. “Too busy with your mind full of cock. Is that what it was? Who was in your mind then, your cousin over there?” I couldn’t speak. “Or perhaps your father?” His eyes glittered. “Has he fucked you yet?” 

“Stop it…” 

“Are you actually trying to order me around, boy?” He jumped forward and grabbed me by the ear. I winced as he dug in his fingernails until a small trickle of blood slithered from the lobe onto my shoulder. The tiniest shiver drew itself out of me. 

“No, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Good. At the very least, you’re obedient. I suppose its your father’s training.” His discerning eyes were lost in thought for a moment, then lit up with narrowed features as a grin slowly took over his face. 

“You can’t seem to focus without a bit of cock in you, so I suppose we’ll have to take a break, shan’t we? You can consider this a punishment for your daydreaming.” 

“What?” Nervously, I tried to push my chair back, but he grabbed me by the shoulder before I could stand. There was no reasoning with an expression like that, so I could only stare up in horror as the man’s mouth slowly curled into a façade of a smile. 

“On your knees, boy,” he said, spite souring his tone. 

“Sir,” I whimpered. “Please don’t make me do this.” I kept glancing to Lod, but he was too focused, too busy in conversation. Surely he could hear this. Surely the elderly man could… No. He heard. He knew. He was keeping Lord’s attention away, and there was nothing my cousin could do anyways. Neither of them would stop this. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t say no. It was a punishment. He saw fit to punish me. Like this. Just like father. 

“Your begging eyes will get you nowhere other than closer to the cock you seek. Now I want you on your knees. You can’t answer simple questions. You’re not fit to be Hand. So you’ll serve your punishment, and then we’ll see if I can try again once you’ve been sated.” 

“Sir-”

“On. Your. Knees.” 

With tremulous fingers and legs that didn’t function, I let myself fall to the floor in a heap. He gripped my shoulder tightly, guiding me under the table and between his thighs with just enough space to watch my terrified eyes looking back at him. Silently begging him to stop. He should have seen the terror. There should have been something, anything there. He merely grinned. 

My breath caught in my throat when he unbuckled his trousers and revealed that he had been straining for far longer than I had anticipated. Sticky fluid clung to the inside of his trousers from the strain, and when he finally released himself, it was with a low groan. I felt sick to my stomach when I realized that. All this time, he knew I was going to fail. He knew that he was going to do this. Maybe the moment that I had entered the classroom for the tutoring session, he’d figured this is what he was going to do. 

I was almost relieved to see that it was smaller than father’s, even if it was unreasonably large. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” He snarled. “Start sucking.” Surely Lod had to have noticed by now. Surely anyone noticed. I wouldn’t have to do this, if I just waited a few more minutes. Then I could sear the image of the flicking cock in front of me out of my brain. I could go back to Jillian and Lod and pretend that none of this was happening. I could be safe. If I just hid in my room with Jill and Lod and let them take me, I could be safe. 

He pushed me by the shoulder up against his length, and I heaved. 

“Stop that! Open your mouth and take it.” 

“Quill?” Came a whimpering voice from the far side of the classroom. I closed my eyes and whimpered. It was too late, and there was nothing he could do anyways. All I could do was panic, and cry. With shaking, sobbing breaths, I slowly opened my mouth and let the man push the head of his cock through my small, whimpering lips.

It was salty, and tasted no different from father. When he slowly pushed in the velvet tip, more and more, it was all the same as before. Maybe a little softer, maybe a little smaller, but there was still an adult’s cock being pressed through my lips, the same blond hair sticking from the end, the same veins that I could trace with my tongue. Still too large for me to comfortable take in my mouth. I could imagine opening my eyes and see the face of the other man that wanted me so badly, my own father staring down at me and waiting impatiently for me to pick up the pace. 

“Well, that’s a sight,” he muttered under his breath as he stared unabashed at my hollowed cheeks. I only caught a glimpse of his stare before my eyes were closed again. The more I looked at him, the more my heart hammered in my chest and the more I felt like I could break down then and there. I just had a job to do. I could do this. I just had to keep my mouth open, and let him do as he liked. Be a cocksleeve. I could do that. Just as before, suck until the man was dry, then wait for his afterglow to subside so he’d be a reasonable human being. As reasonable as he could get. 

Rationalization couldn’t keep me safe when he was grabbing me by the hair and thrusting down my throat. 

I tried to gasp, but it turned into a choking mess. He was rocking his hips past the point of no return. My throat closed up around him, my entire body straining to try to heave out the foreign thing. My stomach roiled in protest, but he wasn’t stopping. I could feel my vision fading the further he thrust without letting up for air. Faintly, I tried to push away with muted whimpers, and only then did he let up. 

I coughed, hacking up phlegm against the floor as I struggled for breath. 

“Quill!” I dimly heard Lod’s voice getting closer, but my tutor’s growl kept him away. The latter was thick with lust, barely human. The elderly man was calling back to my cousin, telling him to come back to study. That this wasn’t his problem. 

“He deserves to be punished for his actions, boy,” the man said calmly to Lod. “He’s no better than a slave, anyways, if even half the rumors around the castle are to be believed.”

“He’s my cousin!” 

“I understand you two are close. You might very well have helped led him down this path in the first place,” his voice took on a warning tone. “But you can’t let someone like that cloud your judgement. Do you want to end up the same as Quill?” 

“No- But- he’s- you can’t do that to him! He doesn’t deserve that! He’s hurting – He sounds like he’s choking!” 

“If you can’t behave yourself, you’ll be getting your own punishment.” Lod went silent. I didn’t have to see him to know that look on his face. Absolute despair. 

I tried to smile, but my jaw was locked and still hacking from the rough thrusts down my gullet. Tears prickled the edge of my vision. I was willing Lod in the back of my mind to let it go. To just let me face this alone. He didn’t need to hurt too. He didn’t need to have some cock shoved down his throat. It wasn’t him anyways. He wasn’t the bottom. He was afraid of pain. He didn’t have the experience to deal with what adults wanted. And what they wanted, was something small and pliable to fuck. I just had to be small and pliable. They liked it when I cried. When I looked up at them with begging eyes. They loved it when I was scared. At least I didn’t have to pretend.

The tutor brought his cock back against my lips for another go around, coupled with a faint hiss of arousal. The velvet head pressed against my mouth, slick with my own saliva. “Alright, let’s try this again. Relax your throat, or you’re just going to choke, you understand?” 

I didn’t have a working mouth to say yes, it was too busy sucking down the head of his cock and staring up at him. Damnit, if he’d just finish it already. His hooded eyes watched me like a snake, a hand outstretched to grab me by the hair again and pull me back down into the depths. It went to the back of my mouth, then my throat, then I felt like coughing and choking again. “Swallow,” he muttered. “Just keep swallowing. That’s it. Swallow, over and over again…” I did as he asked. It hurt, there was too much, and my cheeks could barely take it, but I swallowed, and it got easier. Slowly. This time I’d been ready for it. He thrust into the back of my throat slowly, groaning and shivering with every twitch of his hips, and chuckled to himself when I took what he gave me. “There you are. This is deepthroating, Quill. And I must say. You’re very, very good. Especially for your first time. I can see the bulge down your throat.” When my vision began to fade again, I gripped his thigh hard and he pulled himself back out to let me cough and breathe again. His cock was slick with phlegm and spit, hard as metal and faintly twitching from where it had been buried down my throat. When I’d finally gotten a hold of myself again, I slowly opened my mouth and waited for him to push it back in expectantly.

He grinned. “Good boy.” 

The cock went back down my gullet again, thrusting faster this time. He used my hair for leverage, gripping the rat’s nest I’d not bothered to brush. His breath hitched when I choked or swallowed, moaning to himself, all the while holding the back of my head to keep me from pulling away before I was about to lose consciousness. I barely had to do anything but hold my aching jaw open for him to thrust away as he pleased. Each harsh movement went from the very head of his cock down to the base where I could smell him as his hair tickled my nose. That musky scent wasn’t awful, the constant jilting of moving, the small breaths I got when he let me up for air, it wasn’t impossible to live with. He wasn’t trying to kill me. He just wanted his sock stuffed down my throat. If I closed my eyes, let him fuck my face as he pleased, and took it, then it was almost… Bearable. 

There was a growing harness between my legs that I was trying to ignore, but it was there. The more he thrust down my gullet, used me like a bloody hole, the more I could feel my own erection straining on the inside of my leg. If Lod was still talking, I couldn’t hear it. All I could hear was moans and shaking and the sound of squelching as a cock was shoved over and over down my throat to the very brim. And the roaring of the blood in my ears, the faint ringing, the tremors of my own body as I held onto the man’s thighs for dear life and let him do what he liked. 

When he was finally done, he held it there. His hips twitched uncontrollably, arching and thrusting as fast as he could as deeply as he could, until he let out a sharp gasping whine and pulled me as far down as he could get me. Right at the base. I felt the movement of semen travelling down the length of his cock. He finished right down my throat, grinding his abdomen into my nose and forcing me to swallow every last drop of his semen. Just like father. It all sprayed down my throat, I didn’t even have the chance to spit it out.

Slowly, achingly slowly, he pulled his softening cock out and let me hack up a lung under the table, grasping at my throat and massaging it as I tried to regain my breathing. He sighed, sitting back further in the chair, and finally looked satisfied. I looked at him with my hand still on my throat, waiting for him to say something. 

“Well, that was certainly something.” That wasn’t the tutor. 

I paled. 

Father stood at the edge of the door to the tutoring room, his arms crossed and his body leaning languidly against the frame, but his eyes were focused only on me. He could see me clearly from under the table. I could see the strain in his pants from here. I turned away as my face heated. I wasn’t in the right state of mind. I tried to strangle the erection in my pants with my legs, but that only made it worse. 

“Right Hand, sir!” The tutor immediately sat up with wide eyes to greet my father. “I just – I was just-”

“Facefucking my son, were you?” Across the room, Lod was staring at his tutoring book with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking. The whites of his eyes were massive, his teeth gritted with the tiniest whimper escaping his mouth. The elderly man said not a word to anyone else. 

“I thought it would be – a – a – punishment, sir. Something to show him his place.” The tutor pushed his glasses up that had fallen halfway down his face tried to give a sheepish smile that quickly turned to a grimace. “I thought – perhaps – maybe I got the wrong idea from what you’d told me – if so I apologize most severely!”

My father’s eyes narrowed, only glancing at the tutor before turning his predatory expression back to me. I ducked my head, and squeezed my legs together. My own cock was straining against me. Aching for touch. I hated it. It was disgusting. I was still looking at my tutors’ spent phallus, but all I could imagine was being used like a cocksleeve again. Terrifying. Arousing. Everything I hated. My father was right there. I wasn’t sure what I felt at all, anymore. And that was what scared me most of all. I didn’t even feel like crying. In all I just… Felt so empty. 

“No, you did well,” my father finally said. I sat still in shock as I digested his words. He’d done well. He was fine with throwing me to the dogs. I shouldn’t have… I should never have thought this was special. That there was anything more to this than my emotional destruction. “The next time he disobeys you, feel free to do the same,” my father continued with the same hunger still threatening at the edge of his tongue. But… Don’t let him come.” I furrowed my brows in confusion, but the strange emptiness was overwhelming my reasoning. I was lost. Utterly lost on the ground, listening to my father giving full permission to this man to do what he wanted with me. I was just a toy. “That’s less of a punishment, and more of a treat. Something his little friends give him.”

Something he’d given me. 

I bored my eyes into the floor and listened to my breath hitching from otherwise silent sobs. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” The tutor nodded at my father, who left without so much as another word. He turned back to me, glaring down through those glasses and grabbing me by the hair once again. I flinched at the contact, then winced harder as he pulled me back up to my chair without mercy.

“You heard your father. If you disobey me, you’ll be sucking my cock again. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir,” I stammered. It was difficult to speak with my throat so badly bruised. 

“Your father’s given me permission to punish you how I please, now. As long as you’re not allowed to finish. But then, I suppose that’s how it’s meant to be, you know. You’re nothing more than a tool for pleasure.” I said nothing. I didn’t look him in the eyes, and I waited for him to finish gloating so we could go back to focusing on school work. “Your lips are all red and puffed, now,” He pushed a thumb into my mouth and pulled it apart. Obediently, I opened it for him, flushing steadily darker when he wouldn’t let me go. There was something still hard between my legs clouding my judgement, making me think that this was somehow alright. That I wasn’t being touched by a stranger, or that my father hadn’t just thrown me to the hounds. He pulled at my bottom lip with a finger, moving steadily closer, then stopped with his face was inches from mine. “Cocksucking lips, now.” 

“Yes, sir.” I just wanted school work. I would take anything, anything over this. 

“You swallowed everything down that throat of yours didn’t you, boy?” 

“Yes, sir.” He pressed a finger down my throat and traced over my Adam's apple, before continuing further down to the edge of my collarbone. I took in a wretched breath of air and held in a whimper. 

“It makes me wonder what that ass of yours can do,” he pondered. That almost knocked me out of the hazy arousal, but then he grabbed me by the hair, and kissed me. 

He was rougher than my father, but satisfied a lot quicker. He didn’t seem to like the taste of his own cock, so he only lasted a moment or so before he pulled away with a wrinkled nose. And yet I was still left shaking, panting for breath, straining until there must have been some slickness between my legs that wouldn’t be satisfied. And I hated it. More than anything, I hated that I just wanted this bastard to finish me off. Across the room, I could see Lod trying so desperately not to look me in the eye. 

I didn’t want the tutor. I wanted that. I wanted my brother again. 

“Fine,” He muttered. “Now, let’s get back to tutoring. The secondary exports of each kingdom, Quill.”

“I don’t know, sir,” I managed as a whisper. 

“No, of course you wouldn’t. I bet my cock knocked the last brain-cell from your head. The King has lumber, the Queen has seafood, the Lord has slaves, and the Duchess has furs. This is due to the King’s close proximity to the Wonderland forest, the Queen’s proximity to the coast and access down the cliffs, the Lord’s overabundance of human population to the north, and the eternal winter season causing animals to develop heavier coats from the Duchess. It’s not difficult. The logic behind it is there, and I know that even a tot can understand the major exports of each of the Kingdoms. That’s Left Hand work, for god’s sake. A woman can manage it. But I suppose I expect too much of you. Even your own kingdom is too difficult of a task for you to manage. Every day it seems you’re getting lower and lower, Quill.” 

I was staring at the table, unable to look my tutor in the eye, barely listening to what he was saying. “Yes, sir.” 

“Then Lod can pick up the slack where you fall. Otherwise, you’d turn this kingdom to ruin. Your rule as Hand would be little more than you getting fucked all hours of the day, I’d imagine.” He paused. “But, then, I suppose that would be nice. I’d like the ability to take out my frustrations on a Hand by fucking the shit out of them. Your father is an honorable man. But I can’t say the same about you.” 

I let him continue talking. I was too busy far, far away from all of this. Somewhere with Jill, and Lod, in a bed together. Jill with her soft lips, Lod with his sweet smile. We’d all hold each other, drift off to sleep like that, and feel the darkness come calling to us like a siren’s song. 

“I don’t even suppose you’d take a girl at the age of sixteen, would you? You’re have more than enough cock to satisfy you,” he continued to blather on. “Perhaps the Lord has gotten wind of your antics by now. I wonder, how would someone like him react? He’s quite enigmatic, but I’m sure even he would take notice of someone he deigned worthy taking that respect and throwing it down the toilet.” 

Jillian would be in her own tutoring by now. I could see her after. All of us, together again. Maybe we could go to the courtyard and swim in the pond.

“Or perhaps, he’d see that you belonged in your place. At the bottom.”

Just a few more hours and I wouldn’t have to hold in the tears any longer.


	11. Chapter 11

MARGRET 

The longer I spent in the palace, the more they found ways to keep us apart. Whether it was bathing us in different rooms, bringing us meals at different times, or the dreaded tutoring that weighed over my head, they always found a reason that Rettah and I couldn’t see each other. No one said anything, no one even acknowledged it, but I saw the way they whispered. The way they ignored me. 

At first, they said it was only for a couple hours at a time, to get ourselves acquainted with our new tutors. I had no interest in being anyone’s Hand, but I knew I didn’t have a voice. Sylvia might have the orders to do whatever I said, but when the Queen herself was telling her to take me to tutoring lessons, I could see the way everyone around us gulped and resigned to the fact that she had spoken. I would be one of the candidates for the next Left Hand. Rettah was the same for the Right.

The first tutor that the Queen handpicked for me was an elderly man, his brick colored beard already showing streaks of grey. I entered the room cautiously, with Sylvia at my heels. My feet shuffled, moving slowly and as quietly as I could. In the back of my mind, I knew that Rettah wasn’t far. He was being tutored for the first time, too. Probably learning his letters, or his numbers I’d never gotten around to teaching him, as much as I’d meant to. He was safe. But between me and him was a series of corridors and hallways that I had no idea how to navigate. I’d have to wait a couple hours just to see him again. His hand wasn’t on mine, gripping it tightly like he always did. He wasn’t there to smile and laugh and ask for more tarts. He wasn’t there to ask me why I was frowning. 

My tutor turned from his seat at the round table, then stood up slowly with a groan as his back struggled to accommodate his rotund figure. A saggy set of breeches and a blouse stained with the morning’s soup marked him in red just like all the others, and a cape framed with black hearts fanned out behind him that seemed just as tattered. He smiled at me when I quietly took him in. I didn’t like the way he smiled. No one in this castle seemed real to me. Even Sylvie was excellent at hiding when I said something treasonous. 

“Is this the girl I’ll be teaching, then? She looks like a bright young lass. Really, the hatter’s daughter should pick up things easily if she’s got a mind anything like her father.” 

Sylvie nodded her quiet assent, and gently guided me over to meet the man that I couldn’t look away from. He held out a meaty hand tied together with gnarled blue veins for me to shake. I gripped a finger politely, but I kept turning back to his face. Black eyes glittered down at me, beady against a squished nose and mouth. When he smiled, I could smell that soup again. I found myself edging back when that grin didn’t disappear, but he kept my hand entrapped within his massive palm. “And you’re such a beautiful elegant girl, too, aren’t you. I heard you didn’t have much meat on your bones when you came in, but you’ve filled out nicely. How old are you, dear?” 

“Eleven.” I tried to speak clearly, but the faintest stutter showed I still wasn’t used to talking to strangers. 

“So young, and yet you’re already gorgeous. Does your slave do your hair? It looks sweet with those pins.” He gazed over me a little longer, but he wasn’t looking at my hair. I couldn’t seem to stop the shaking in my knees, but I hadn’t the faintest idea why. Perhaps I seemed out of place in my clothes. I certainly felt it. Today, they’d made me wear a pale red dress with a darker sash around the middle, and mahogany dress shoes. All of the red surrounding me was starting to make me grow cross-eyed. Even in the gardens they tended to favor red roses and lilies. I couldn’t seem to escape the dreaded color. 

Not to mention, I couldn’t run in something with such a large petticoat. I’d found myself constantly being reminded by Sylvie not to hunch myself over, even if I was at an awkward height compared to most girls. As much as I tried not to care, it only made me stand out more. I’d about had it with these eyes on me.

“Well,” he clapped his hands together, and I flinched. “Why don’t you sit down beside me, and we’ll get started, shall we? We should go over a rudimentary understanding of the Capital to begin. Once you’re the Left Hand of the Queen, you should know this place inside and out, at least in terms of economics. It’s extremely important for keeping the city alive.”

His eyes were on me even as I slipped into the chair beside him. I tried to seem confident, with a tentative glance in Sylvia’s direction, but she seemed troubled rather than annoyed. That was an expression I hadn’t seen on her before. I faltered, but the tutor seemed unperturbed. He only paused to turn the page on the text book, before looking back at me and grinning once more. The soup must have been cream of onion. I couldn’t get it out of my nostrils.

“Now, what do you know so far about the realm of the Queen?” 

“It’s very red,” I muttered. Looking him in the eye wasn’t making him turn away, so I did instead. I was surprised to see Sylvie right beside me. She’d been by the door just a moment ago. When I looked up at her again, her gaze had turned onto the man. Her eyes flicked between him and his hand, the way it hovered beside mine. Curiously, I looked over at it, then nudged my chair away to put her nerves at ease. The way she seemed so protective was strange. She might have been one of the few lighthearted servants I knew. 

The tutor wrinkled his nose. “Just red? Did the hatter teach you nothing, little one? I would assume you’d at least know a few important figures, perhaps some geography?” 

“My father taught me many things. How to sew, how to cut trees, how to keep a farm, how to cook. But he didn’t talk about this place. He only ever spoke about home, because he never imagined his children ending up here.” I bit my lip. I shouldn’t be speaking like that to him. It wasn’t as though he was the reason I was stuck in this place. No matter how much I wished I could yell and scream, I knew that was the best way to cause trouble. I didn’t want trouble. Not for Rettah.

He merely chuckled, and took the opportunity to pet my hair. 

In shock, I stilled and waited for him to finish, but he didn’t. A meaty finger combed through my hair and along the pins that Sylvia had painstakingly run through it. A visceral, involuntary shudder went through me. Confusion and apprehension grew. “Sweet and sword-tongued. What a lovely combination. You’re truly the hatter’s daughter. Well, my dear, the Queen’s Kingdom isn’t as bad as you might think, though it’s saddening that your father neglected your studies. It’s a wonderful center for trade goods, which is the leading source of income for the Queen’s kingdom. The Capital is the largest city by far in all of Wonderland, lying at the very edge of the sea of Tears. It’s thanks to all the sailors braving the seas and coming from distant lands to trade that we end up as one of the wealthiest kingdoms. That port is a massive hub for commerce, up north from the castle. We give them lumber, slaves, a few foods and spices they can’t find anywhere else, and we get all the glorious wonders that you can find in the Capital’s port and trade districts. There’s all sorts of exotic spices, liquors, wood, animals... I’ve been down there myself, getting a mini-bird for my wife. Cute little thing, like you. Even the people there are strange, you know. There’s some creatures there from across the sea that don’t speak a lick of English, but they’re still great hagglers. Some of them remind me of those old legends, you know.” He chuckled. “Talking animals and such. A silly idea, now, though creatures like that make you wonder. But still, I find those coming from other the seas as brave as they are idiotic. They say the sea’s more treacherous than the Wonderland Forest.” As he spoke, he didn’t cease in stroking, though he’d moved from my hair to the back of my neck. I turned to Sylvia in alarm, unsure of how to proceed other than to keep listening to his vapid anecdotes. She was as still as a statue, her lips set in a firm line and alarm in her eyes. I was confused, but she was scared.

“We also are quite famous for the festivals, and all the other exciting districts full of life and wonder. One is coming up right now, honoring the year that Alice supposedly came to Wonderland for the last time. Drinking, food, mushrooms, hookah, all sorts. There’s the food district, where restaurants and carts line the streets for nearly a mile, the Red Light district – well,” he chuckled. “We’ll have to talk about that one too, eventually. But there’s many others, each branching out into each other. The factory district, the slave district,” I stiffened, “Of course the housing district is there, as well. We might not have quite the population that the Lord’s Kingdom has, but that may be because our entire population seems to congregate in this one beautiful city we all call home. Seems that population is the only thing the Lord Kingdom has going for itself anyways, you know.” He laughed, but it turned into a hacking cough midway through. I took the opportunity to move further away until I was just out of his giant sweeping arm’s reach. 

“What about the slaves?” I interrupted. “Can we talk about them? Why are there slaves anyways?” My eyes glittered as I watched him. If I was going to be stuck here listening to the man, then I’d at the very least not want to waste my time. But he wiped his mouth and frowned when he saw that I was further away. A strange look twinkled in his eyes. My heart began to beat faster. 

“What a silly question. Slaves exist because nobility requires service to accomplish all our great endeavors. But come here, girl, my hearing’s not so great when you’re all the way over there. We can be friends you and I, can’t we?” 

“I’ll yell if I have to,” I said louder. “But I want to be over here.” I waited for him to respond.

All of the joyful banter in his voice seemed to melt away. “I’m your tutor, girl. If I say something, then it’s for a good reason. It’s better if you’re closer.” 

“I-“ I backed further away, noticing how his fists seem to clench and his body stiffened. “I’m not sure –“

Sylvie coughed politely, and the both of us turned. “I understand you quite like my charge. Perhaps too much.” 

“You have no voice here, slave,” The man huffed, keeping his gaze on me. “Why don’t you go offer your services somewhere else? Margery and I can speak together privately.” He waved a hand dismissively, but Sylvia didn’t move a muscle.

“But,” she continued unabated. “Though you are her tutor, and I must respect you as my better, MARGRET still far outranks you as a Left Hand to be, does she not?” 

“What are you talking about? She’s just a girl.” 

“A girl, with the Queen’s personal approval. Were you not informed?” 

“I can do what I like with the girl, as long as I teach her.” I looked between the two of them fearfully. The way he said that made my stomach twist. Sylvia looked as bad I felt. 

“The Queen gave me express orders to listen to what she wants, and to do as she says. And if my lady Margret wishes to be on the other side of the table, then she will be on the other side of the table.” I could hear a hint of wavering in her voice, but her eyes remained firm. “And we will get another tutor, if your hearing is too taxing. Nothing should get in the way of her learning.” Her eyes narrowed, her voice lowering to a whisper she didn’t think a Wonderlander could hear. “Especially not a lascivious old lecher. She’s a child, you swine.” 

She hadn’t meant for him to hear her. He did. He did, and she realized her mistake seconds too late. “Why you –“ He stood up as quickly as he could, the rolls on his stomach jiggling in tandem as he marched towards Sylvia’s terrified eyes. “I don’t care if the Queen’s got a bloody stamp on her name!” 

“Sir – I-”

I got in front of him before he could touch her, but only just. In a single moment, the furious monster had gone from glaring at the woman, to punching where her abdomen would have been. I felt his fist connect with my stomach, the air leave my lungs, and then I was on the ground struggling for air with a blurry vision. The punch was meant for an adult, a servant, meant to make them double over in pain and remember their place. I could barely breathe. My body was weak. I hated it. 

Brittle, brittle bones.

“Margret!” Sylvie screamed. The earsplitting screech was enough to send the man running as fast as his morbid, indolent body could take him.

I felt hands gingerly pulling at my arms, stroking me and desperately trying to examine where the punch had collided. I batted the hands away. Panting, shaking faintly, gasping for breath, I managed a small smile at the hazy image of Sylvie kneeling beside me, then climbed up her form to bring myself onto my knees. 

Her demeanor faltered when I patted her shoulder, then slowly used her to get onto my own two feet. It was shaky going at first. I could only breathe in pants, and Sylvie wouldn’t leave me alone. She rose with me, eyes still wide in terror. “I’m alright,” I wheezed. It didn’t sound as bad as I thought. If I could breathe then nothing had punctured my lungs. Hopefully. There was no way of telling for certain. “It’s fine. Are you okay?” 

“No you’re not! You can’t be – that punch should have broken a rib, aren’t you - I swore I heard a- a crunch.” She said it like it was a curse. The woman had the front of my dress unbuttoned, the sash torn away and the whole ensemble halfway down my stomach before I could protest. Her face fell when she saw the sunken mark, the heavy bruising, and the clearly broken rib. Thankfully nowhere close to my lung. Still nerve-wracking to see. I could even feel it, now that I was looking at it. Everything in my stomach had shifted from the punch. There were clearly pieces of myself in the wrong position. Internally, I swore for throwing myself into danger. It’d never been this bad before. I was supposed to be careful. I couldn’t be broken now. 

“Oh my god, Margret,” Sylvie whimpered through tears. “Sweetheart – how are you awake? Doesn’t it hurt?” 

Sheepishly, I turned away from her, and bit my lip. “No, Sylvia, it… It-“

She shook her head and probed closer before I could say another word. “We’ll need to get you to a doctor. Oh, dear God, my poor girl – why did you do that? Nevermind. We need to get you help. Immediately.” 

“No – Sylvie - I know the rib’s broken– but Sylvie, there’s something else and I don’t think a doctor is going to fix it-”

“Nonsense, I’ll get a guard to carry you – or a stretcher – it must be shock, that’s it.” She turned to go but I grabbed her on steady legs. She stared back in disbelief, and a moment passed before she wasn’t speechless. 

“You shouldn’t be moving, Margret, please! You’re going to get yourself killed!” 

“I can’t feel pain, Sylvia.” 

“What are you saying?” She shook her head. “Clearly you’re still in shock. You should be lying here – we should have you transported-” 

“Sylvia. Please. Listen to me.” I motioned to the deep scars crisscrossing down my arms from the many times I’d failed with the ax. Some were worse than others, but all were nasty enough to warrant suspicion. 

She’d never said a word about it. No one had. It was better to keep one’s mouth shut about the possibility of foul play. They had no idea that I’d done it all myself. Each one was a memory of a bad decision, no noticing the feeling of the slice through my skin, or the distraction of Rettah playing in the garden. Bittersweet memories. “Do you see this?” I held them up to her. 

“The marks of abuse- it – there’s no way those could be self inflicted.” She whimpered, and fell back once again to my arms with no sure path to take. She tried to pull me into her arms, but I held back and listened to her shaky, unsure rant. “I thought perhaps, your father, or maybe your mother-“ 

“No.” I stiffened. “It wasn’t them. It’s me. I’m too accident prone for my own good. I barely felt some of them, Sylvie. And none of them hurt.” 

“But – that can’t be right – it’s – Margret - you shouldn’t be standing like this. Please, let me carry you at least. We need to get that looked at.”

“Sylvie.”

“I don’t know what’s going on, but can I please bring you to the clinic?” She asked. “We can talk about this later.” 

I grimaced, then sighed. This was going nowhere, and I didn’t want to stay here. “It’s probably not a good idea for me to walk anyways.” 

Tenderly, she picked me up into her arms and held me like a porcelain doll, that nervous, shuddering touch relenting for the sake of a steady hand. For decency, she lay her shawl over my chest, but at even that she was tentative. Every touch was feather-light, as though I would break, and I could feel her heart beating faster than ever as she rushed out the door as soon as she was able.

“This shock must have hurt you terribly – I know a doctor that can help,” she said worriedly. She didn’t seem to be listening to me. All around us there were half-curious eyes watching the human servant carry the noble girl through the hallway, their bodies nothing but obstacles for Sylvia. Their attentions flickered from us, to the sounds of the squealing pig down the hall, some of them outright stopping to try and catch the scene. It was pointless to ask them to move. They were just bodies to navigate around. “It’s not – you can breathe, right?” 

“It doesn’t hurt, Sylvie. I could feel it happening. I know something’s wrong. I could feel the punch when it collided. But it’s… Different. I promise.”

“The shock –“

“It’s not shock. Please. Believe me.” I earnestly grabbed her hand and she held it tightly in hers, but I could tell that she still wasn’t listening. Her eyebrows just furrowed in further worry. When I glanced back to see the gluttonous man, he was staring down the lances of two guards and holding his hands above his head with puffing whimpers. A crowd had gathered. I was shocked; I thought for certain that he would have just kept running. 

Without warning, another guard caught Sylvia by the arm and stopped us. Neither of us had noticed him in the throng of bodies, coming out of nowhere to hold onto us with his other hand firmly on the pommel of a sword. I gulped, shivering at the stop. The force had jolted my stomach into a different position. The running had drawn his attention, but his expression went from hardened to worried when he saw the state I was in. Sylvie was puffing, I was shaking, the two of us made an odd pair. Even if it didn’t hurt, I till found myself weak. 

“The girl looks as pale as the grave. What happened?” His attention turned to the man warily, then back to us. “Did you do something, woman?” The other guards hadn’t let the man move an inch. The crowd made it hard to see. I tilted my head awkwardly back, hearing the sound of orders, of cries, of curious whispers and calls for further guards. I could feel the grip of Sylvie tighten, a nervous whimper dying in her throat. The corridor continued with the steady stream of nobility towards the more shocking situation, but there were several sets of eyes on our scene. We didn’t have time for this. I felt like retching.

Sylvie spoke breathlessly. “Sir – I…” I grabbed her by the sleeve, then smiled weakly at the man.

“My tutor. He assaulted me. He… Touched me. I…” I paused, and something clicked. 

A shiver ran down my spine, and the touch of that man on the back of my neck suddenly felt real again. 

I bit my lip. “He was touching me. Inappropriately. And I didn’t want him to. So he attacked me.” I turned up to Sylvie, with mounting horror growing in the pit of my stomach. That grim look from her was all I needed to confirm it. She’d been afraid for good reason. I hadn’t even thought… I’d been so stupid, walking into the maw of a beast so willingly. Now all I could feel was his hands on every fibre of my being. I started shivering for a very different reason.

“Right. We’ll deal with him. Slave, take the girl to safety.” The young man drew his sword, patted my hair and ran past the two of us all the while shouting orders to the other two holding the pig hostage. 

Sylvie kept running. Neither of us spoke at first. I was still reeling. This time the nobility and servants surrounding us parted as quickly as we could move.

“What’s going to happen to him now?” I finally asked.

“I don’t know, my lady,” her focus wasn’t on me. “Execution, perhaps. Damnit, where is that clinic.” 

“Execution? What?”

“The price of assaulting someone in this court is high, is the Queen has anything to do with it. She’ll want to see the man pay if he hurt you.” 

“He… Touched me, but…” 

“I know, my lady.”

“She doesn’t care about me. The Queen. Why would she do that?” 

“I don’t know about that.” She bit her lip, looking at me as though she were betraying a secret. “But the Queen likes blood, my dear. She will want to see heads roll for this. Any excuse for an execution is an excuse worth taking.” 

“But… She can’t do that!” I wavered. “That man might have been terrible, but shouldn’t there be justice? Anything?” 

“She’s the Queen. And that man hurt you, don’t you remember?” She held in a whimper. “There was no telling what he might have done to you, I didn’t – I don’t want to think about it. As far as justice, you should be glad that he won’t be harming you any longer.” Sylvie looked down at me, her eyes still pierced with worry. “My lady, that man was sick. I’m glad he won’t be hurting you. No matter what it is that may happen to him.” 

I gripped her arm tighter as she turned a corner. “But I don’t want to be responsible for a man’s death. He was aiming for you…” I bit my tongue. It shouldn’t have mattered. 

“You shouldn’t think of it like that. Whatever happens is out of both of our hands. It’s the Queen’s decision. Hopefully we won’t have to see the outcome. But you shouldn’t be speaking right now. You should be focusing on keeping yourself still, alright? We need to get a doctor to see you to. That clinic – it should be right here. There. Thank God.” She breathed a sigh of relief when she entered the clinic, and gladly relinquished me to the hovering human women that seemed to gawk and flutter as soon as they saw the wound. 

Hours were spent in that godforsaken room, listening to doctor after doctor telling me the same thing. They placed me in a room of the hospital wing, a clinic that ran from corridor to corridor treating all manner of issues. For me, they tried everything for shock, not once listening to my words of protest. I kept trying to tell them over and over again. I showed them the scars. I told them the stories. I pricked my own arm with a quill tip. 

It took several examinations for them to even question it, coming back hours later with the confusion on their faces once they had carefully cross-referenced the break and found it should have left me on the floor in screaming pain, if not unconscious. There was a second opinion, then a third, then a fourth, and when a nurse finally sighed and decided there was no possible way I could be lying, they finally left me to rest. 

They couldn’t believe it. No, they wouldn’t. Sylvie still didn’t. Word spread around the clinic, I had eyes on me waiting for something even stranger to happen, but all I could do was wait, heal, and wish for Rettah. 

Rettah. His tutoring session should have finished by now. 

I even thought about faking the pain, but it was too late now. I could do little more than wait for them to decide what to do with me, curled up in the feather bed with Sylvie’s watchful eyes at my side. Time passed with me watching the clinic staff moving from room to room in the warm, welcoming wing. Their attention started to lessen, leaving me to rest with words of warning. I watched the world go by out of boredom. The sheets here were light, cotton, and reminded me of home. The window highlighted a particularly beautiful part of the gardens full of wild berries on the vine. Birds chirped outside, and people talked softly from bed to bed about the day’s gossip while they got over their colds. For a few minutes, I forgot where I was. 

But through the window, the sun began to set. I watched as the shadows slowly lengthened, bit by bit, running along the bedframe, then the doorway, until there was little more than a sliver of light remaining from the outside. Servants with black hair tied in buns came to light the large candles that would last the night, greeting me curtly as they passed. I felt something grow in the pit of my stomach, but it wasn’t pain.

“Where’s Rettah?” I finally asked Sylvie. I gave her hand a squeeze to wake her up. She’d been dozing, but I was growing impatient. It was long past dinner, but I wasn’t hungry for the tray they’d brought me. “Could you find him for me?” 

“Rettah? Oh – he must be somewhere. But dear, you should rest.” 

“I want to see him,” I said adamantly. “He can’t be doing anything important right now, would he? He must be in his room. Worried, I’d bet. I told him I would be back soon, that it would only be a few hours.” 

I pursed my lips, then added: “Why hasn’t he come to see me?” 

“He might be preoccupied, don’t let it worry you. The lad is sweet, I don’t think he would have left you alone on purpose, right? Perhaps he heard about what happened, and he decided you needed time to sleep.” 

“No, that doesn’t make any sense.” I shook my head. “I don’t understand. What if something happened to him? I should go to him.” I made a move to leave the bed, but she gripped my hand firmly. 

“Dear, you’re going to give yourself an ulcer thinking that way. Rest. Both of us had a hectic time. I want you to be safe and healthy, and sleep will help.” 

“But Rettah-“

“Rettah will come,” she pressed. “But you need sleep. Please, my lady. For me.”

I tossed and turned that night, as much as the doctors would have hated me for it. The nightmares clawed against the insides of my eyes and beckoned me closer. I kept waking up in the middle of the night, staring at the whitewashed ceiling of the clinic, and holding onto my blanket as though it were Rettah’s small body. But it offered no comfort. It wasn’t there to kick off the covers, of change positions in the middle of the night. It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t my little brother. 

Two days later, Rettah’s face peeked out from behind the door, his silly hat making him a foot taller than he should have been. I didn’t notice him, not at first. The doctors had swarmed me again, begging for more accounts of my condition with the come of the morning sun. I’d already given them all I could remember, but it never seemed to be enough. And if it wasn’t that, then it was a nurse begging me to eat, or Sylvie asking me what I might like from the kitchens. Spoiling me. Begging me. I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t hungry without Rettah around. 

“Margy?” His small voice cut through all the others. As soon as I hear it, I felt like everything was the right way up again. 

“Rettah!” I rushed out of bed before the doctors could stop me. I knew I’d be paying for it later, but I couldn’t have cared less. Rettah leaping into my arms was more than enough. He giggled when I held him, and it was like the entire night melted away. He smiled, and the entire corridor brightened. “Are you okay? How are you? I’ve been thinking about you this whole time – you’re alright, aren’t you?” 

“I’m alright.” He smiled, but I couldn’t stop myself from checking him myself. He patiently let me comb through his hair for any hidden cuts, look at his arms and carefully check his hands for the tiniest scratches. He was clean as could be. He smelled like he’d been standing next to the pastry. I pressed my face against his shoulder. He probably had. “I’ve been studying with Ms. Perennial. She’s really nice, she teaches me all about maths and English, and she’s teaching me piano!” 

“Ms. Perennial? Is she your tutor?” 

“My lady,” a doctor gently placed a hand on my shoulder. I stiffened. “You need to be resting after your injury,” He pragmatically intoned. “Please.” 

“Right.” I reluctantly followed with my arms still gripping Rettah as tightly as a pillow. He humored me, staying by my side even as I lay down on the bed and once again returned to my familiar piece of ceiling. This time, a familiar warm body lay down beside me and held tightly onto my hand with his own little fingers. He was nodding emphatically the entire way, the brightest smile on his face. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling back. 

“Ms. Perennial is so kind,” he couldn’t stop himself from gushing. “She’s got lovely red hair, like a grape, and it’s all shiny too. And she talks in a really pretty way. She rolls all her letters like they’re little gems.” He paused, then earnestly pressed closer. “Are you okay, Margy?” 

“I’m alright, I want to hear more about Ms. Perennial.” I glanced to the door and noticed Sylvie watching the two of us. Her hands gripped the apron of her dress tightly as she looked between us, but she maintained a faint, appropriate smile. The doctors passed her by as though she weren’t there. “Did Sylvie bring you?” 

“She said you weren’t eating.” Rettah frowned. “You should eat, Margy. It’ll make you grow up big and strong. You’re thin, she says. And that you wouldn’t have gotten so hurt if you ate more.” He pressed closer, pushing his face against my chest. “Please eat.” 

I ran a hand through Rettah’s bush of hair after knocking that ridiculous hat off, and smiled when I could only get partway through. “I’m alright, Rettah. I just… I was worried, about you.” But everything was alright now. Rettah was here, Sylvie was watching over us, and I could protect him here. I could see him. 

“But you’re sick and you need to get better, right?” He asked. 

“Right…” I smiled. “I’m very sick right now. But you visiting makes me feel better.”

“That’s what Sylvie says. So I came to say you need to get better. I have lots of things to do, but I didn’t want to forget about you.” He smiled as bright as could be. “And I’ve got to learn a lot so I can be a Right Hand and you can learn a lot so you can be a Left Hand, and together we’ll be both hands and we can clap.” 

“Of course,” I giggled. “But… Why didn’t you visit before? When I was… Sick.” 

“Oh, I was busy.” He smiled. “The Queen wanted me to come to tea, and then some other children invited me to play hide in seek, and I didn’t want to be rude. And I didn’t know you were sick, before.” He blinked. “I thought you were busy too, when you didn’t come back to the room. The Queen got me this big stuffed dog, so I got to cuddle him in bed instead. And then we had tarts and tea and she let me sit on her lap.” 

I gripped his hand tighter. “Rettah,” I began tentatively. “I know you like the Queen, but…” 

“But what? The Queen is so nice!” He indignantly waved my hand around with his. “She said you don’t like her, but I said that you were just scared. I was too, a little bit. But she’s nice. Everyone here is so nice. We’re safe here, Margy.” He beamed. “Right?” 

My stomach was twisting in knots. “Of course, Rettah. You’re safe. No one’s tried to… Do anything bad with you, right?” 

“Like what? I love it here. It’s like heaven.” He smiled. “We can do whatever we want and we get to learn so much and everyone is like us and it’s safe and the servants are kind too. And we can talk to each other all the time.” 

“But we’re not together,” I whimpered. “I haven’t seen you in days, Rettah.”

“We don’t have to always be together, do we? Don’t you want to do things on your own? The Queen introduced me to some other kids, too! The ones I played hide and seek with. There’s Trent, and Sigil, and Allegra, and some I don’t even remember! And they also have red hair. They’re nice, but they didn’t stay for more tea. They missed all the pastries.”

“Rettah…” I squeezed his hand. “It’s different. We’re family. They’re not. We have to stick together, alright?” 

“No, we don’t,” he said. As sincere as he could be. He pulled his hand away when I held on too tight. I looked down at my hands. Shaking. “I want to explore. Why don’t you?” 

“Because I…” I felt tears burning the edges of my eyes. “I love you, and I want to keep you safe.” 

“I AM safe!” 

“I…” 

“Margy, it’s okay.” He held my hand up against his face, and gave it a big fat slobbery kiss. “We’re safe. Together. Forever. I just wanna learn. Don’t you?” 

I grimaced, caressed his cheek, then let my hand fall into my lap. “Of course, Rettah. We’re safe. We have everything we could ever want.” I closed my eyes. “You’re safe. I keep forgetting. You’re safe here.”

My stomach hurt.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I call this the crying chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains: Underage, pedophilia/pederasty, anal sex, rape, dubious consent, blowjobs, and a hell of a lot of sexposition.

QUILL

I walked silently among the heavily populated halls of the lord kingdom, my hands clenching and unclenching as I went. The string of my blouse had been tied too tightly. I was choking amongst the sea of nobodies.

Human servants carried towels and platters of food to and fro. They carefully avoided suspicion themselves, but everyone was used to the workers that kept the court in stock of food and supplies. They passed under fall tapestries, brightly sparkling torches, and bowls of flowers and fruit at the end of each hall. Some were tending to them as they passed, silent conversation echoing between them. 

Nobility spoke amongst each other in shouts, whispers, really it depended on the conversation at hand. Some broke into laughter at a quick quip made by one concerning a group of Lord nobles that had made their presence known in the Red Light District after living most of their lives in the palace. They wouldn’t last long, one was chiding. Another broke in with a greater laugh and suggesting they try the mushrooms they’d been sent by their cousin from there. That caused the rest of the crowd to twitter in excitement. A few feet away from them, two of their wives watched with less than impressed expressions, but said nothing. One raised a fan and daintily waved it, the other snorted and swept back her hair. I passed close enough to hear the latter’s proposition to the former, though their husbands heard nothing. The younger woman trailed a hand down the side of the elder’s. 

Children ran about the streams with not so much as a glance in my direction. I believed they were playing hide and seek. A boy of six chased after the much older siblings that could have been twins, both perhaps twelve years old. The poor boy couldn’t hope to catch up, but the smile on his face proved it didn’t matter. The other two disappeared behind a hall with a jeer, but when the boy looked down, he was shocked to find the two of them missing. Too young, I supposed, to know of the hidden hallway that lay between the two corridors just behind the bowl of pears.

I turned away from them. 

Guards with swords sheathed in their belts stood at attention every fifty meters, their eyes staring ahead at the crowd. A few bobbed their head in salute, some smiled at a pretty woman that passed, but their attention remained, for the most part, stable. They grew thicker in number, here. It was to be expected of such a place. I kept my head down when I felt their gaze waver on me. I was nothing of importance. They could let me continue on my way. Of course they would. The metal they wore was unblemished, as shiny as the day it had come out of the forge. The Lord Kingdom hadn’t seen a battle for hundreds upon hundreds of years. No one had. And these guards were bored out of their damned minds. It was only an hour or so before their shift changed and they could enjoy a hearty dinner of salty lamb stew and soft, sweet bread like the rest of us. 

The castle must have thought it was strange. I would have, if I had seen the slut of the palace roaming free without some consort. For all intents and purposes, I should have been on my hands and knees servicing the next man to come along.

Perhaps a guard, like father had convinced me to last week. They were certainly bored. Maybe they’d had enough of their wives, or their daughters. Maybe sons were the newest, interesting thing. It was all the rage in the Capital, those young nubile children plucked right before they were ripe to ensure a taste so bitter and tart that you would never miss that overly sweet syrup. Those men spoke about it over there. Those idiots that idolized the Capital.

Or perhaps father would prefer something more brutal, instead. A whole host of guards, now that was something more his speed. To see just how many I could suck off from that score, while simultaneously being drilled down to the absolute core of my being, well…. That was a special treat. He’d let me try that a month ago. I still hadn’t recovered, completely. 

If I looked up from my feet in this hell of a hallway, perhaps I’d recognize the one that had shot his load down my throat and made me cough and thank him afterwards. Maybe I’d see the one that nearly yanked my hair out of my scalp when he pulled me back to see his semen dribbling down my chin. Or I’d see the one that refused to look me in the eye when he came balls-deep in my rectum. Probably thinking of his wife, instead. I was probably tighter than her. 

I walked faster down the hall, well aware of the eyes on me. I could have been imagining them. It wouldn’t have mattered. 

It wasn’t official, but it didn’t matter. The Right Hand had still decreed under his breath that I had gone beyond the realms of appropriate behaviour, and was to be punished. A façade, really. An excuse for whatever ideas for me he had in mind. An excuse for anyone to touch me.

The tutor was the first. Then a guard. Then a friend from the Capital. Then a Queen noble, with dark red hair and cold green eyes, a slaver bringing in the latest shipment and enjoying the splendor that the Lord Kingdom had to offer. 

Then my mother, standing idly by, as she listened to her son being fucked by the man she married in the next room over because I couldn’t bare to look at her without crying. She just knitted. She knitted, and listened to my moans and cries, and ate the scone a servant had brought for her. And then she smiled, when I returned. With semen still running down my thighs from beneath my trousers. And we had a conversation like family. I looked her in the eyes, for some kind of fear behind it. For anything.   
Horror struck me when I realized she looked the same as she always had. Not even her eyes had changed.

I should have known. I should have known from the day my father watched me, and did nothing. From the day he’d lifted a hand, I should have realized where I belonged. That the touches of men twice my age would grow to normalcy as I wandered down to the dining hall every day. That disdain and disagreements would be left with nothing more than harder fucks. It was best to just agree. 

I couldn’t remember the last time Lod had touched me. I couldn’t remember who had touched me at all. When, where. It didn’t matter. This body didn’t belong to me anymore.

Every step I took, I could feel another set of eyes boring into my skull. Questioning me. Where was I going? I shouldn’t have been heading in this direction. I shouldn’t have been alone. 

Maybe what I was doing what stupid. It was reckless, certainly. Maybe I should have waited for Lod or Jillian to accompany me. That attempt at defense was the only one I had these days, as futile as it was. But the two of them were busy with their own tutoring. And I should have been right there with Lod. We could have been learning about the last war on dragons today, the etiquette surrounding talks with other Right Hands of the neighboring kingdoms, and the appropriate response to being called by your respective Royal once one has the title of Right Hand. Perhaps Lod would learn that, today. I’d read it and more in the texts, but I’d never once heard it come out of my tutor’s mouth. The only other learning I’d get would be from listening in on Lod’s conversations with his own tutor while desperately trying to focus. The man in glasses that called himself my tutor would have to forgive me for not being there to stuff his cock in my mouth today. For not being there to let him push what he pleased into my ass. To see what size of candle I could fit around me today with the only spit being the lubricant he deemed worthy. Apparently, the last one was the size of a fist. I didn’t really want to know how much larger he could get.

I wondered if father could possibly know, underneath my firm walk and my eyes that I kept on my own shoes. 

I knew the way. Everyone did. It wasn’t a way that one was supposed to walk, of course. The directions were instilled in every resident of the palace for the very reason of making sure not to end up in that specific corridor. To not go to the top floor of the very back of the palace, to not pass by the braziers that burned down low and were only topped up every few days at a time. To not continue down that hallway that was meant to only be used by servants and those with high enough standing. I bet if I bothered to look, I might recognize my father’s shoes in the dust that hadn’t been swept for weeks. It wasn’t as though anyone liked to keep it in this sorry state. But those were the Lord’s orders. 

Even the thought of disturbing him was nearly enough to send me back. I knew what I was doing was wrong. This was one of the worst possible decisions I could have been making. Standing outside the wide mahogany doors that had been elegantly carved to represent autumn leaves and the symbol of the Spade, I knew that I was breaking the largest taboo that had ever been instilled within me in this godforsaken palace. 

I smiled to myself. I had nothing left to lose. 

With a quiet rap on the door, I waited to see a man that I could not remember. 

“Who is it?” The wavering voice asked. I paused, unsure what to do next. The voice was small. Quiet.

“It’s… Quill, sir. My Lord? Your Majesty?”

“Who is Quill?” The voice asked like a frightened, nervous little man.

“The son of the Right Hand, my… Your Majesty.” I paused. “You approved my birth, when I was a babe.” 

“The son of… Quill?” The voice murmured to itself. “A Quill again, I see… The last Quill I can recall, why… He must be dead by now, I suspect. You must be a new Quill, then. Ah, yes, that babe… How many years ago it must have been?” A moment later, the door opened slowly, and a man unlike any I had ever seen before slowly opened the doors. 

His eyes were like twin suns, looking down at me with a faintly furrowed expression. Soft, luxurious locks of spun gold flowed down to his shoulders. His face was ethereally, beautifully alien, ageless, his jaw narrow and his nose the perfect aquiline size against his face. He could have been Jillian’s age. He could have been fifty. It took me far too long to glance at the rest of him, with a face like that. The robe he wore around his form was made of silk, lined with white fur, and clung to him like greedy fingers. The golden strands intertwined with silver and shimmered against the sunlight that dappled from his room. His entire body was bathed in it. He soaked in it. He stared down at me like a strange little fly. 

It took everything I had not to collapse in front of him.

“Your… Majesty,” I breathed. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked. I tried to ignore the faint disdain in his voice. “I suppose it’s been fourteen years then. No… Fifteen? Already fifteen? I’m not expecting another meal for the next hour, at least, you know.”

“I needed to speak with you, your Majesty,” I finally blurted. “Please. In private.” 

“In private?” He asked, but I doubted he expected an answer. He thought to himself for a moment, then nodded. His height made him tower over me, his cloak flowing like a curtain as he held an arm up to hold the door open long enough for me to step inside. 

I caught my breath. 

The royal chambers were blinded by the sunlight of the midafternoon that filtered through massive, elegant windows decorated with stencils of orchards and fields. The roof arched upwards, the ceiling twenty feet tall at its highest point. The faint scent of cinnamon and apples drifted through the room filled with hanging yellow and orange silks, which grew thicker and more vibrant the closer to the bed canopy they got. The bed itself was extravagant, the cushions carefully embroidered with vines and fallen leaves, along with the sheets that stretched unmade across the mattress of goose down. Two large end tables framed the overly sized bed, with a wardrobe of dark wood further down, and a divider decorated with trees for changing. Across the room, a table and chairs overlooking the beautiful view of the palace grounds stood empty and lonesome. A bowl of this harvest’s apples sat in the middle, surrounded by a silk table cloth and a copper decanter of red wine, glasses beside it. The scent seemed stronger there, a heady scent, like the morning’s baking. Further across, a large row of bookshelves housed quite the library, though it was nowhere near the main one in the castle. 

The Lord walked soundlessly across the wooden floor boards, and it was then I first noticed that he wore no shoes. His feet seemed just as tidy as the rest of his body, coming to a stop at the table and pouring himself a glass of the deep red liquid. 

“Would you care for some?” His small voice knocked me out of my thoughts. “It’s a lovely red. From a good year, a decade or so ago. We saw a lot of rain, then.” I shook my head quietly as I closed the door behind me. 

“No thank you, your Majesty. I’m a little young to be drinking.” 

“I see.” He took a sip, then sat down at one of the cushioned chairs. The silks flowed out behind him. “I believe, that year, we had a particularly large monsoon. It was a nightmare on the drier crops. Quite a bit ruined. Everyone was upset about the pumpkin and squash.” His lilting voice was distracting. I found myself in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do with myself, and it took his gentle hand waving to send me over beside him. 

I sat down facing the windows. “It sounds like a sad year, your Majesty.”

“All years are sad.” 

“I… I see.” 

“Quill, was it?”

“Yes, your Majesty.” 

“That’s an interesting name,” He observed, rolling the wine around in his glass before he took another sip. “Like a quill and inkwell. Did your father think you’d be a scribe?” 

“I don’t know… Your Majesty. I never asked.” 

“I’m always curious, about those naming conventions. It caught on and never seemed to go away. Quite a fad. But naming your child after something you want them to do leaves shoes to fill. Do you think you’re a scribe, Quill?” 

“No, your Majesty,” I said hesitantly. Seconds ticked by, but I was struggling to find a way to turn the conversation around. The Lord sipped at his wine, I couldn’t bear to look him in the eye, and the both of us listened to the faint sound of birds outside the window. 

“Birds,” the Lord observed. 

“Yes, your Majesty. I think that’s a wren. Perhaps a few jays.” 

“You’re quite knowledgeable for a young lad, aren’t you Quill?”

I gulped, and awkwardly stared at the window, ducking my head. “Thank you, your Majesty.”

“Are you sure you’re not a scribe? Perhaps a scholar?”

“Perhaps… One day, your Majesty.” 

“One day, eh…” He took a deep draught of the wine, then reached to refill the glass. He poured it slowly. When I looked to him, his eyes seemed to narrow on the spool of the red liquid as it churned into his glass. He placed the carafe back down, then held the glass up to his face, and sipped. “Why have you come, Quill?”

“Because… My father…” I flushed, turning away and realizing only now how difficult this would be. I wanted to respect the Lord, I’d learned enough about him in theory, but in truth, looking at him now, I was quickly realizing I was in the room with a stranger. Explaining this to someone I’d never met was terrifying. There was no telling how he’d react. What he might do. I bit my lip, but he said nothing. He couldn’t have known, yet, but it was as though he already did. His eyes gleamed, waiting for me to continue. “My father has been abusing me,” I said tentatively. “Your Majesty,” I added quickly after. “The whole castle has. Everyone seems to turn a blind eye. I… I don’t know what else to do. I came here today – and I know I shouldn’t have, I know how you appreciate your privacy – but I didn’t know what else to do. I thought… I thought perhaps if the Hand wouldn’t help me, that the Lord might.” I twitched away, feeling blood pool beneath my lip as I bit down harder. “I apologize for overstepping my bounds.” 

“Well…” The Lord took a deep breath. I myself was struggling for one. “That’s… Quite something. You don’t look hurt.” He looked over at me. 

“It’s not that kind of abuse, your Majesty,” I murmured. I ducked my head again, but he leaned in closer, sipping from his glass. 

“What is your father doing to you, Quill?” 

“… Raping me, your Majesty.” 

“And the rest of the castle?”

“Yes, your Majesty.” 

“Was there a reason you were picked?” He didn’t sound accusatory, only curious. But my heart still beat faster. 

“He saw me with my cousins. Lod, and Jillian. He was upset. That I liked being on the bottom. He claimed he didn’t raise me that way. But I have reason to believe that all of this is just an excuse for something he had planned for a much longer time.” I was startled at how close the Lord was. Those pools of gold watched me intently, and I found it difficult to meet his gaze. “I believe my father wanted to do this for a long time, and he chose that incident as a catalyst. And I believe that if you decreed as an order that I were not to be touched, I could be safe. I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds, but you seemed to acknowledge me, before.” I pressed earnestly closer. “I thought, perhaps, not as a favor – but perhaps in exchange, I could help, I don’t know how. But something, perhaps.” 

The Lord watched me a moment longer, then stood up straight and turned back to the window. I held in a whimper, waiting for him to say something. It took so long. 

“I don’t know, Quill,” he said softly. “How much schooling have you done?” 

“Enough. I’m studying to be a Right Hand. But… The abuse makes things difficult. My tutor is in on it, just as the others are.”

“You would know enough that there are four Kingdoms, though, would you not?” 

“I… Yes, your Majesty.” I deflated. 

“The Lord’s Kingdom is the largest of all four, an eternal fall over the entirety of our land. Right up against the border with the South. I got all of these wonderful silks from a Southern trader, before the slavers caught wind of how lucrative the South could be for humans that were so exotically beautiful. Back when the borders were more open, and it was easier for trade caravans to pass between our lands and the desert beyond. Perhaps a hundred years ago, perhaps two hundred… Time moves strangely, for me. The trader dealt with my Left Hand and Right Hand, at the time. They brought me these silks, as a gift. I never left my room. Do you know when I last left this room, Quill?” 

“No, your Majesty.” 

“I think it must have been four hundred years ago. It was for a boy, not much older than yourself. I think he wanted to show me the swans out in the courtyard. The pond was very large, that year. Rain, again. Full of eels. Fish. Frogs. He liked to pick them up and show them to me what he caught, then let them go again.” He sipped his wine. “He was a pretty boy. Blond hair. Soft brown eyes that twinkled yellow in the sun. He drowned, a year later. They said it was an accident. I never knew someone with such skill in the water to die like that. But I suppose these things happen.” He turned to me, and I could smell the wine on his lips. “Quill?”

“I don’t understand, your Majesty.” I said tentatively. “What are you trying to say?”

“The Right and Left Hands of the Lord are in control of this Palace, Quill. They choose to give me what I might like, and leave me alone to enjoy the stillness of the world. I don’t need the outside world and whatever peril there might be. Whatever danger there is. But the day I decided to never leave this room was the day that I gave up on the throne.” 

I found it difficult to breathe. When he turned back to his drink, I grabbed the sleeve of his cloak and tugged it with a desperate whine escaping, the only sound I could make. He reeled back in surprise, but at this point, I couldn’t stop myself. The tears kept flowing. 

“You have to do something!” I cried. “Please! I can’t take this anymore. You don’t understand. You can’t. You don’t know what it’s like.” Slowly, my head felt, sobs wracking my body. “I can’t… I can’t do this anymore. I can’t go back there again. I can’t.” 

“Unhand me, Quill.” His voice was calm, and I did as I asked, but the tears were still flowing, and my eyes stung from the scent of apples. I could smell nothing else. The Lord drank the rest of his glass and set the glass aside, then pulled me into his arms. I gasped, sticky and teary eyed and shaking as I felt the warmth of his body against me. The back of my neck was buffeted by his breath. “No,” he murmured as he began to stroke my side. “I can’t do anything about them. But you could stay here, could you not? You would be safe here.” 

“No –“ I realized what I’d said all too late. “I have my cousins, your Majesty.” A familiar drop in my stomach. Fresher tears. The sobs subsided, but there was a chill that wouldn’t go away.“I can’t leave them behind. I…” He placed a hand by my lap, and a shiver ran through me. 

“They could visit. Stay here often.” He kept me close as he reached to get another glass of wine, but I stopped his hand.

“Haven’t you had enough?” I asked nervously. I tried to smile through the tears.

He narrowed his eyes. There was nothing benevolent in that face. I remembered my place, and let him go, and that drop in my stomach grew.

“You could be a scholar here, Quill. I have books from the South. All sorts, about the dragon wars, the ancient world of Alice, the legends of worlds beyond, all sorts. Wouldn’t you like to know about what comes from beyond the sea? The men the size of children, the isle of color, the talking birds that walk upright? It’s like an entire world within a book, and you’d never have to leave your room. You’d have my pick of the libraries. All of these books are those I’ve deemed worthy, my favorites.” He trailed his hand up closer, a finger touching the cloak I’d draped around myself. “And you could write stories for me. My little scholar.” He reached for my jaw in one hand as he took a long draught of wine with the other. I sat frozen, watching him. “There’s a certain kind of beauty in a face like yours. Sunkissed skin. Freckles. Hair the color of straw. You might hide your body, but that agile frame is there. You remind me of him.” 

“Who?” I stammered, afraid to say more. 

“The boy that drowned. His name was Alphonse.” He pressed his lips to mine, and I tasted the sickly wine. It was sour. 

The Lord drew away from me, lying back against the chair and watched as I sat dumbstruck and struggling to speak. Words swirled around my mind, unable to come to a conclusion. All I could do was stare at the creature that wasn’t human that now had his hands around my waist. His eyes weren’t natural. Nothing about him was. And yet, when he looked back towards the window as though he had all the time in the world, it was like he was in his element. The sunlight flashed over his face. His eyes were liquid gold. He was utterly beautiful. 

“You’re a sweet one, Quill. I want to keep you.” 

“You can’t, my Lord,” I whispered. I was afraid to speak any louder. “Please, let me go.” 

“Let you go?” His eyebrows furrowed mournfully, his eyes far away. “Is that truly what you want?”

“I just want it to stop,” I whimpered. “Please.”

“Crying again,” He spoke in undertone, then slowly shook his head. “Just once, Quill. This once, and if I let you leave, I know I shall never see you again. If you give me just a memory, that would be enough.” 

“My Lord-“ He pulled me up with him as he stood from his chair like I weighed nothing at all. I hadn’t the strength, nor the courage to struggle. My eyes bulged from terror. I couldn’t stop shaking.

I was tossed gracelessly against the mattress, struggling to get away with the goose down offering no chance of grip. Everything was so soft, so luxuriant, that the Lord had pinned me to the bed in moment. His wine-soaked breath coated my senses. The silks he’d gotten as a bribe so long ago hung like rolls of flesh from his body. His form might have been perfect, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. And I was trapped. 

“Please,” I whimpered. 

“I promise I’ll be gentle,” he murmured. His carefully tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and I supressed a shiver. “Your body is too sweet to break. I’m no killer.”

No. He was a coward. I shut my eyes tight.

“Quill,” he whispered sweetly in my ear. “Look at me. What do I look like to you?” 

I whimpered, and slowly obeyed. 

My Lord lay over me, the curls of his golden hair falling down his neck, his lips faintly parted, and his beautiful eyes twinkling with the hint of a smile. Tears brimmed at the edge, then dropped when he dipped down to press his lips against my cheek. The scent of apples and cinnamon seemed to seep from the Lord himself. I could smell nothing but it when he was so close. 

“Just once,” He said softly. “One moment of your time.”

“Your Majesty…” His fingers gently picked at the buckles of my leathers, his eyes focused on me. I lay there, frozen as ever, my heart beating ever faster as the man began to undress me. All of that effort of hiding myself was nothing in the end. Layer after layer of clothing was shrugged slowly off of me, and all I did was lie there and let it happen. The bed wasn’t soft enough. I wanted to sink into it until there was nothing left. 

Then it was done, I was breathing harder, and had pressed my face against pillow with soft sobs shivering through me. He’d found me hard halfway through the process, but he hadn’t touched me. It wasn’t until he was finished that he even said anything. 

“You’re beautiful,” he finally whispered by my ear. I whimpered in response. “Really,” he continued. “Beautiful.” He lay a cool hand against the heat of my stomach. “Warm. Pretty. Do you swim much, Quill?” 

“Not anymore…”

He pushed a tear away from my cheek, then pressed gentle kisses down my neck. He stopped at my chest, grasping a nipple in his mouth, and pulled with only his lips. I gasped, grappling at his hair. My cock twitched in response. He let go and his eyes darkened when he saw the way I was still catching my breath, my ears flushed and pink. 

“Were they rough with you, Quill?” He asked, continuing his kisses downward. 

“Yes…” I stammered. I wanted to close my eyes again, but he was watching me. 

“There are scars. On your shoulders. Your hips. Someone’s ripped you up.” I flushed to the roots of my hair, staring mutely up at the ceiling and wishing he would stop looking at me. He pressed a kiss against my hip. “Did you want it that way?”

I closed my eyes and let another wave of grief flow over me. “Not by them. Not like this.”

“Do you feel dirty, Quill?”

“Yes,” I gasped. He’d pressed his lips against the edge of my cock. “Yes. Always. I can’t – I can’t get it off. I just want it to come off. But I don’t know how” 

“Wonderland is a dirty place,” he muttered against me, before swallowing me in his mouth. An experienced tongue tangled over my length. I danced in the bed, shivering and trying to move away only to be pulled back by his firm, pianist fingers. The soft suction was insistent, overstimulating and I couldn’t find a way to drift away. I was too present. I wanted to disappear. I couldn’t look at anywhere but at the Lord. He could have been Lod. If I squinted, I could see it. But it wasn’t. And I was deluding myself.

I moaned through my teeth, and he moved his head faster. His eyes darted up to me, my writhing form, my quieted gasps and pants. I locked eyes with him, and shameful arousal grew. Then his tongue licked around the underside of my glans, dipped against my slit, and slid back down as the rest of my cock was swallowed in another deep bob of his head. I was being eaten, and I hated how much I enjoyed it. 

I was hardening in his mouth, twitching and shaking. My fingers locked into the goose down bed, and my voice grew until I was outright moaning in the otherwise silent room. It had been so quiet before. Calm. I was ruining everything. 

Pretend it was Jillian. Pretend it was Lod. 

But then, this was my Lord. I was supposed to care for him. I was supposed to serve him. 

I closed my eyes and felt that resignation. I’d done this countless times before. The only difference was the level of respect I should have showed. 

This was what my father said I was meant to do. So I’d do it. 

I gasped, grabbing onto the curls of hair as I finished in his mouth. He swallowed without flinching, then slowly moved off of my spent erection and went back to kissing over my stomach and chest. When he reached my mouth, I kissed back. He wasn’t surprised, he pressed closer, enveloping me with his larger form. The silks seemed to flow off of him with nothing more than a soft tug of his hand. His shoulders were exposed, then his pale chest, then the lines of his waist, then a pale yellow bush with a cock just like all others. I’d grown numb. He pushed his tongue into my mouth, and I let him explore as he pleased. Whatever he wanted. If he noticed I’d stopped shaking, he didn’t say anything. He was enjoying my mouth a lot more than I thought he could. He pushed his lips closer, nuzzled into me, lapped at my lips, tugged them with his teeth, an incessant whine at the back of his throat. 

I’d long since let go of his hair. They just lay there beside me. I was still as a statue. 

He finally pulled away, pressing a thumb against my mouth. 

“You’ll be sixteen soon,” he murmured. I quietly nodded without so much as a twitch in my blank expression.

He smiled. “Do you know what that means, Quill?”

“No, sir. Should I?” He gently pushed my lips apart with his thumb, watching as I took it obediently in my mouth and began to suck on it. His cock hardened against my thigh, but he didn’t acknowledge it. 

“It means that soon enough you’ll be permitted to enjoy an entertainment girl, if that’s what you seek. There aren’t many slave shipments that come here from the Capital. But you might find something you like. A girl to suit your needs. You might find that you’ll enjoy yourself that way. Do you like girls, Quill?”

A flash of Jillian’s smile made it impossible to see the Lord through a thin sheen of tears. “Yes, your Majesty,” I whispered. 

“Don’t cry, Quill.” He placed a kiss on my shoulder and ran a hand through my hair, expecting that to help. “An entertainment girl may be the very thing you need here. Perhaps I can’t help you, except for taking your mind off of things. But find yourself a way to think of something else. That’s the way that Wonderland works. Whatever happens, find yourself a vice. Find an oasis, and you’ll be safe there.” 

“I don’t understand,” I whispered. “I love Jill and Lod…” The façade had cracked away, and suddenly I was in the present again and there was a man standing over me with my legs hanging over his shoulders. He was prodding my entrance with a dainty hand while talking to me like this could in any way have been a normal conversation. My entire body shivered with his touch. It felt too raw after the last time I’d been fucked. But at least he was gentle. I could be grateful for that. 

“Loving them isn’t a crime, but your father thinks it is one. But if you find a way to show that you’re just like the others, if you play this game of his and try to do as he planned for you…” 

“It was an excuse. The man wanted to fuck me.” He pushed another finger in with the first he had been carefully working in, and my breath hitched. I didn’t mean to, but I found myself rocking into his touch before I could stop myself. I looked down at what he was doing, and moaned through my teeth when he pressed his lips closer and licked at my cock. He curled his fingers as he thrust them inside, watching the way I shook and crossed and uncrossed my legs in embarrassment.

“Perhaps. Perhaps all he cares about is doing what makes him happy. But an entertainment girl is camouflage. Surround yourself with slaves. Use them however you might need. You are a noble, Quill. You should know your place.” 

I flinched, turning away and gasping as he pushed his fingers in harder. 

“My place is on the bottom,” I stuttered. 

“You’re my descendant, Quill. You’re my descendant. A beautiful example of one. You’re better than any human. Better than the base nobles with their faintly yellow eyes or their lighter shades of earthen hair. A Lord noble might not be considered the most confident, or the most useful. Well, that doesn’t matter. You’re still a noble, regardless. You’re stronger. You’re better. So do what is your birthright. Subjugate. And use them for the defense you so clearly need.” 

“I…” Something was churning in my stomach harder than ever, but it could very well have been that he had pushed his three fingers apart inside me. I didn’t have the words to speak. When I opened my mouth, a moan came out instead as he forced them in until he was looking down inside me and I couldn’t push my legs together if I wanted to. He’d scissored the opening until I was spread, blinking back at him.

“You’re easy to pry apart,” he commented. “Tightness should extend from the muscles, should they not?” I turned my face against the pillow again, flushing darkly. 

The cock was pushed in just as slowly. I tightened up as soon as he pushed the head inside. My whole body shivered in recognition at what he was doing, knowing it was wrong. Somehow wanting it more. My chest heaved. He moaned quietly, a soft, pathetic sound, then he pushed his cock slowly deeper. 

He didn’t thrust until he was certain I was done adjusting. Only when I was little more than shivering, squeezing his cock tightly with my ass, splayed with my legs around his neck, did he start rocking. The soft spurting and squishing noises of the saliva he’d slicked his fingers with was grating on my ears. But that meant I could walk away from this. I wouldn’t bleed and ruin his bed. 

I almost wished he’d just hurt me. 

“You’re gripping me so well,” he muttered, then moaned a moment later. I closed my eyes, rocking back my hips to make things go faster. His cock was bigger than I thought it would be. Every push made it feel like he was prodding my guts, his gentle gliding turning slowly rougher as he seemed spurred onward by my reactions. I pulled at the blankets, unsure what to touch. 

I thought this would have been enough for him. But then he grabbed my hands, pulled my body forwards and used that for resistance as he rocked his hips down into mine. He bottomed out, and I whined sharply at the way he filled me up. Lod wasn’t big. He wasn’t this. This was something else entirely. I could feel every inch of him, the way he ground his hips inside. It didn’t hurt. He enjoyed himself. I tried to close my eyes and enjoy it too. And I did. It was good. It was amazing. I was fucking my Lord. The Lord I’d been made to serve. I could almost live with this. 

But then I opened my eyes again, and the strange man in front of me was crying ugly tears. 

“Alphonse,” the man muttered. “I missed this, Alphonse…” He thrust harder, his grip tightening on my hips, forcing his cock in, pounding away. I whimpered, gasped, wailed as he rocked into my with everything he had. His body was twitching and shivering uncontrollably, unable to fully grasp the pleasure. He was getting rougher, but he was so strained, so unusually reserved in the way he rocked his hips. I’d never felt something so gentle. I kept my eyes closed and let myself get lost.

I finished on my own stomach moments after he emptied his load inside me. He dipped his head down and slowly caught his breath. Then he looked up, let go of my wrists and slowly pulled away with slightly wide eyes as he seemed to realize what he’d done to me. His spent cock fell out of my ass, and with it came the semen that flowed onto his precious silks. I turned away in disgust. 

“Are you done,” I muttered. 

“Alphonse…”

“I’m Quill,” I said, and sat up on the bed. I faced the thin, sickly man with his too bright eyes and silks. 

“Quill…” He blinked, then smiled. “Sorry. Time blurs. It’s been too long.” 

“Right.” I curled tightly up by the pillow as far away from the man as I could get and eyed my clothes that had been torn away from me. They’d been thrown halfway across the room. I went for them, then paused when I noticed the Lord pulling his silks back on and sitting motionless on the edge of the bed. He kept wiping his eyes, but he was deep into his quiet sobs. I’d never seen something so pathetic.

“You look just like him,” he muttered. 

“I’m a child.” I stared at him. He looked up at me, new tears forming. 

“You don’t understand.” 

“I think I understand. Too well.” 

“No-“

“Are all Lord nobles like this? Are we all meant to be cowards? Are we all doomed to end up child lovers preying on our children and so desperate to be loved? What are you?” Angry tears dripped down my chin. There was nothing left to fear. He was nothing, now. I pulled my clothes on roughly and ignored the semen still dripping down my thighs.

“No, Quill…” The man whimpered and stumbled closer. All of that splendor was gone. He wasn’t even a monster anymore. He reached out to me and I slapped it away. And he meekly accepted that. 

“Don’t touch me,” I whimpered. “Don’t.”

“Come back, please,” he cried, slumping onto the wooden floor with a muffled thump. “I’m so lonely. Please. “If you’re here, you’ll be safe. It could just be us again. You and I. We could do whatever you liked, Alphonse. I was even gentle this time. I did everything for you. We could hide the rest of the world out in this room. It’s safe here.” 

“You’re insane.”

He smiled through his tears and struggled to his knees.

“I suppose I’ve been alive too long. I don’t think I know what day it is, anymore.”

I slammed that door behind me and slumped to the dusty floor. Across from me, a supply closet stood half open and abandoned. The brazier was still burning. Someone had topped it up. Semen was staining my underclothes. The Lord’s semen. Royal semen. 

I grimaced before I burst into tears.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains: Underage, sexual assault, lesbian foreplay.

MARGRET 

Years past, and the world continued turning. 

There were those that wished to see me dead, and those that wished to see me beneath them spread across some bed waiting invitingly for whatever they wanted from me. Eyes that watched me every moment of my day could have been friend or foe. Every hand that held itself out to me could have been a monster in disguise. The redder their hair, the more trouble they were. At first, Sylvia had taught me not to speak to adults. To stay away from the men that claimed to be scholars, from the nobility that roamed the halls and laughed far too loudly. It was those men that wanted to hurt me in the worst possible way, she claimed. It was those creatures far past their prime that looked for youth that they could suck on the teat of. Parasites stalking the palace grounds and looking for the children of unwary nobility that let their spawn run about. Human servants watched idly by as a little boy or girl was pulled away from the main hall and found a few hours later, a little quieter. A little less alive. 

I thought to Rettah, and Sylvia had to hold me until I stopped trying to run. 

It was currying favor with servants and nobility that kept people safe. All people. Rettah was of the Queen, and I’d at least garnered favor with Sylvie. She’d keep me safe, and she taught me what was up and what was down. That kind of tutoring was one I so desperately needed. She told me of the dangers of walking alone without her, or to keep away from the even the women who’s eyes were filled with jealousy. I didn’t understand what they were jealous of. They didn’t want this. No one should have. 

I suppose I should have known that sex was not the only thing to be afraid of. That it was more than men, or women. There was a reason children never played with me. 

I walked through the courtyard by myself. The years had made me taller, gangly. It seemed like I was never going to stop growing. The tailors had a difficult time of it finding dresses to fit me, and in the end they’d collapsed among themselves and decided to reluctantly agree to a shirt and flowing skirt, rather than constantly have to change the height and bust in a more form fitting dress. The freedom of clothing without too many ruffles was lost on most of court fashion with their bodices and petticoats, but the fact that I could run if I wished down this orchard of oranges was almost enough of a high to forget about Rettah. 

Even if it wasn’t my father’s work. Nothing could be quite the same as his stitching. Growing out of those outfits was a blow to my heart. I kept a dress, but Sylvia had insisted on no more. There was no point to them in my wardrobe, she’d tell me. I couldn’t focus on the past. There were studies, tutors to learn from, a world to better. Perhaps she was right. My brother probably wouldn’t have cared.

And at the thought of my brother, I shrunk again, and went back to quietly padding down the path in my flats on the way towards the edge of the world. My brother wore whatever fashion the servants thought looked best on him, and he never argued. He was perfectly content in whatever outfit was picked. Joyous even, to be considered. And then he’d be quickly carted off to the Queen, in some perfect schedule that kept us apart. He was the perfect noble.

The cliff’s edge was overwhelming, no matter how many times I visited it. The height must have reached three times the length of the castle, if not further. It took a trek to get to the coast line of the Ocean of Tears, but when I did, I could look ahead for miles at the sea that was supposedly more dangerous than any other place in the world. Sea monsters lived out there, leviathans that roiled around on the ocean floor and waited for ships to cross over above and dapple the sunlight below. Fish across the world took up entire bays with their frog shaped enormity, keeping their mouths open for months before ingesting an entire ecosystem of fish. Somewhere out there, merfolk danced under the water and made cities out of coral and stone. They called to the people on their ships and begged them for an hour of their time. Then those people would disappear.

I sat down at the edge, wrapping my arms around my legs, and looked down hundreds of feet to see the rocks that dotted the bottom. Sheer cliff-side met the crashing waves. I could barely hear them from my perch, but they were still music to my ears. I could close my eyes and imagine myself closer, at the docks that my newest tutor had talked about in passing. This one loved sea stories. He frequented those docks, and had so many stories to tell. They wouldn’t let me leave for whatever arbitrary reason the Queen set in place, so I only had my own imagination and his recollection. The dock was only a few miles north of the castle. Set apart from the main city, it was filled with fish mongers and clam diggers selling wares out of wheelbarrows heaped with their wares. There were traders with goods that they sold right out of their ships, exotic livestock fluttering about at the auction house. Questionable men no one wanted to label “pirate” walked about with markings down their arms and tales about black obelisks far across the eastern continent, which they claimed had healed them from terminal illness. A decrepit woman with a glass eye spent a lot of time at one of the bars every night spinning a story of snow dragons as big as mountains in the north, if only you paid her a half pound. It had no bearing that the dragons died out hundreds of years ago, she’d seen them only a year prior, stealing the last of her sheep. 

I wondered if Rettah liked dragons. If he’d been taught about the history of Wonderland in the same way I had. If he’d learned about the legends of Alice and the older, brighter world before the rest of the Royals appeared mysteriously in the annals of history. Then suddenly the forest was dying and all of the suppose magic was gone. If it were true, that is. No one believed it anymore. 

But I wondered if he’d learned about the failing economy of Wonderland, and how it was only surviving through free slave labor, intensive trade, and the quick wit of underrated Left Hands. Perhaps that was too much to teach a child. 

But I wondered if he wanted to go to the pier and look at the ships that must have been massive to make it through all of the sea monsters within the Ocean of Tears. The massive multicolored sails of the Kaleidoscope isles with their gorgeous gemstones and spicy food. The black sails of the darklands, and the otherworldly “magic” they brought with them through dolls with exes for eyes. And the stranger, off white sails of the eastern continent across the sea. Those were the best, the ones that brought tidings of the obelisks, and the war with people they claimed were dragons even though no one had ever seen them. So many people, no one with the same hair colors as nobles. Some were human. Humans, across the sea, living in freedom. Humans that acted with the same charisma as nobility, as if there were no noose tied around their necks as soon as they docked. None of it mattered to them. For all the Wonderlanders seemed to care, the continent across the sea could be ruled by humans. As long as they continued to offer cheap trade deals, they wouldn’t touch those that arrived by ship. It would have been so easy for a Wonderland human to slip through the cracks, to run away and never come back. But I supposed Sylvia was too easily seasick.

The South was a different story, one that my tutor didn’t often talk about. My tailor did, but only when he wished to complain about the lack of silks in his inventory. The South’s people had been decimated by incalculable slavery, leading to the standing army at that border being insurmountable. The cities were even worse, from what my tailor had said. A guard for every five people. And then a neighboring noble chimed in with a sigh, despondent that he would never be able to fuck an exotic beauty so long as their kept their gems so well defended. There was naught left but the crumbs that made the terrible mistake to walk across the border without an armored caravan as their guide. If it wasn’t slaves or silks that interested them, my tailor continued that the exotic pets and spices were just as interesting. Anything to show off to the fellow hedonist, really. The more expensive and rare, the better. 

I shook my head. I couldn’t continue on so callous, unless I wanted to end up like them. 

Maybe, if I asked enough, Sylvie might be able to pull some strings and allow me to see Rettah again. Maybe he could make time for me. Maybe we could have an exception made, and go down to see the ships ourselves. 

I curled my legs up closer. The last time I’d seen him, he’d gotten so big. He wasn’t my height, but he was still matching me foot for foot. His hair was a little longer, a little more ragged, and his hat fit just a little bit more. He must have been eight, by now, if I was fourteen. A smart boy. I told him the day of his birthday, but neither of us ever had the time or funds to celebrate. If his was coming up, I’d like to get him a present. Perhaps something sweet, but unique. A pastry with an orange, maybe. Or a lime. It would mean I’d have to use the kitchens, but the servants seemed unkind when I asked things of them. I supposed I could leave it in his room. Whenever he had the chance to return, he’d see it, and there would be a little note there reminding him that I was still here, and he could visit whenever he liked. 

A hand shoved me from behind, and my stomach lurched as the space between me and the cliff edge closed with only an inch between before I could get my bearings. I didn’t even have time to scream. My hands gripped tufts of grass, staring in shock at the rocks below, and barely hearing the sound of laughter behind me as I slowly edged myself back away. 

“You should have seen the look on your face! Wow, I got you good!”

“Sigil,” I tried to hide the whimper in my voice. “What was that for?” 

“To get the blood pumping. You can thank me later.” 

“You could have killed me.” I slowly turned my head to stare in disbelief at the girl only a year younger than me. Her bright green eyes glimmered strangely as she watched me crawl back from the edge, holding her hands behind her back. Thin strands of black hair spliced with faint flecks of red dripped from her head like ink, and the slightest of fang poked out from her smirk. 

“Well, it’s not a big deal if I do, right? You wouldn’t feel it.” 

“Yes I would!” 

“You can’t feel pain, so I don’t see the point in not utilizing something like that, right? I think it’s pretty brilliant.” Her smirk disappeared, her eyes suddenly going wide in mock sincerity. “It means that you’ll never be affected by torture.” 

I gagged. “You’re disgusting. Why do you have to act that way?” 

She balanced on her heels, and didn’t bother to fold down her dark red dress when a gust of wind flipped it up to show her panties. I turned away from the strange girl that haunted me relentlessly, but she was back to pushing me just as I did. This time, I caught her by the arm and pushed back, knocking her down into the tall grass with a frown. I stood over her, but she didn’t seem bothered. 

“Why do you always bother me? Don’t you have other things to do?” 

She shrugged. “You’re always there to bother. You don’t really do anything, do you?” 

“I do plenty. I’m doing something right now.” 

“Brooding? Anyone can brood. My father broods all the time.” 

“Who, the treasurer? What’s he got to brood over?” 

“Money. The lack of it. He loves taxes. And being henpecked by that crone of a Left Hand.” She nodded solemnly, then pressed her hands together and jumped to her feet with a smile. “Want to play with me?” 

I frowned and shook my head. After a year of this back and forth, I’d learned enough about Sigil to know to avoid her. If only she’d let me. Servants didn’t talk about the dead squirrels with their throats sliced that appeared on main paths in the courtyard, but everyone knew who it was. And I should have been heading back to Sylvie by now. There was tea to attend to, and then a small chance to catch Rettah before he was whisked off to another event with the Queen. 

“I don’t think you should say no, you know. You don’t have any other friends.” She ran up to meet me as I stormed away. I tried to ignore her, but she kept poking herself in my face and demanding attention with those big green eyes. I focused on my shoes clicking sharply against the cobbled path. “Margret, why aren’t you listening to me? You’re my friend, right? My best friend.” 

“Stop it, Sigil.” She frowned comically. 

“Stop it, Sigil,” she mocked. “Jeez, you’re so boring. What is it this time, are you upset over your brother not coming to see you? Has there ever been a time you weren’t upset? All you ever do is cry in your room and contemplate jumping off cliffs. Or are you planning an exodus of slaves this time?” 

“Sometimes I’m not upset. When you’re not around.” I kept walking. But then I heard the quiet sniffles, and I stopped. Sighing deeply, I slowly turned around, expecting to see her snickering, and balked when I realized that Sigil was crying real tears. She pressed her hands up against her face, whimpering and sobbing in the most pathetic way she could.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. I faltered.

“Sigil…” I bit my lip and tentatively took a step closer. As much as I didn’t believe her, I’d never seen her cry before. Her voice shook and cracked, her chest heaved, and her cheeks were stained with heavy tears as she hiccupped and panted. The image of Sigil’s smirking, confusing face was suddenly contorted into childish sobs that I didn’t know how to contend with. “Sorry, that was harsh of me, I didn’t mean it. Don’t cry. You’re just… Very strange, and you always seem to try to push me into things. Or out of things. That’s not very nice.”

“No, no… it’s okay.” She wiped her eyes and smiled through the tears. “I understand. I just… I thought maybe… Since neither of us had any friends, maybe we could. But you don’t even want me.”

“Sigil, please forgive me, I didn’t mean it.” I held my breath. I hadn’t even realized. “If you want a friend so badly, you could… Well, we could be friends. But you have to stop being mean.” 

“Oh?” She whimpered. “Really?” 

“Of course. You’re not that bad…” The dead squirrels wanted to disagree, but I couldn’t stand the sound of crying. Especially hers.

She shrugged, and wiped the tears away. Then she smirked.

“Well, then I guess I’m not trying hard enough.” 

I flinched, staring in shock for a moment before turning abruptly on my heel and continuing down the rows of oranges. In less than a moment, the tears were gone and she was back to that evil grin. I should have known. This was Sigil’s game, using whatever emotion she wanted at any given moment. I refused to stop. Nothing was going to make me turn around. No matter what she did. 

“Now you’re not even looking at me,” she wailed beside my shoulder, easily keeping pace. “Maybe I should add another scar to your collection. Then you’d notice me, right? I could do it right along your eye.” She pointed a finger too close and I swatted it away. 

“What do you want from me?” I demanded. “Just go away already.”

“You want to know what I want? You’re so gracious. I suppose I should expect that from one of the Queen’s favorites.” 

“I’m not her favorite. Just spit it out so you can leave me alone.”

“That’s just it, Margret,” she smiled. “I don’t want to leave you alone until you promise me something.” 

“What?” I scowled.

“That you’ll give up being Left Hand.” 

I stared at the ground, but I didn’t stop. 

It made perfect sense. Of course it did. 

No children spoke to either of us. And they wouldn’t. Not only were they not being trained to be Left Hands, but I was a stranger, and Sigil was a nightmare. They didn’t have to care about the position, and those that were, were singled out by the Queen herself. We were touched with this power that we couldn’t access. It had to be us two. Sigil, the girl that swiped knives from the kitchen, the girl that could be cut with those knives and do little more than glare at the girl while trying to deal with the inconvenience of bleeding. Sigil and I both were estranged from the rest of the court, and that left only the two of us to interact, and for a while I’d thought that meant I’d simply been stuck with a strange girl no one ever wanted. I’d thought this Left Hand business was just an excuse to have us learning in the same room together when it came to figures and economics. It was a joke. She should have known that. Everything about this bloody position was a joke. She laughed about it, she was always laughing. And I’d stayed in my own head and ignored everything else. I’d pretended she hadn’t existed. I’d never looked at her face and seen that she could have been just as dangerous as those men Sylvie told me never to cross. She was smarter than that, Sigil was. She had to be smarter than to think a position like Left Hand would ever have any meaning. 

No. This was Sigil. Of course she wouldn’t have the common sense. Of course I’d just been blind. 

“Is that the only reason you’ve been bothering me all this time?” I asked in shock.

“Maybe. Or maybe I just like you.” She was hiding it now, but her hand had been revealed. Her eyes were beady and full of want. 

“Whatever. If you want to be Left Hand, take it. I don’t want it. I never have.” I gritted my teeth. It would have been a blessing not to be forced into the spot the Queen had lain out for me. I didn’t need to fight Sigil for something I had no intention of keeping.

“While that’s such a lovely gift, the Queen wants you as Hand, and it’s rather difficult to get her to agree to let you go.” 

“I don’t talk to the Queen,” I growled. “Not unless she asks for me. And she doesn’t. Ever. If you think I have any favor with her to speak of, then you’re wrong. I’m just here for my brother, nothing more. If you’ll excuse me, I’m trying to get to him.” 

Sigil grabbed my arm and nearly wrenched it out of the socket as she forced me to stop in the middle of the lime orchard. “The Queen thinks you have the superior genes, Margret.” She smiled serenely. “You’re the daughter of the old Mad Hatter. That’s one of the oldest lines in Wonderland, bar the Royals. That puts you directly in line to be the Left Hand of the Queen. The Hatter has always been a Right Hand, that’s the way of things. If he isn’t, then that Hand has never been a very good one. And to have a relative of that line as Left Hand? The Queen is a traditionalist. You’re not even that smart, or that resourceful, or that interesting, but for your parentage alone, the Queen is planning on making you Hand. Do you know that?” 

“I didn’t. And I don’t want the position.” I tried to pull away from her grip, but she was surprisingly strong. I’d have bruises in an hour. 

“But you can’t just say no to her Majesty,” Sigil tilted her head to the side. “And I think you know that. Otherwise you would have left already, and run off with your brother to somewhere else.” 

“Don’t bring my brother into this,” I snarled.

“The royals always train a few possible Hands, just on the occasion that one dies, you know. There’s always an understudy, a chance for someone else to have the position if another should fail for any reason. If a Left Hand were to die, let’s say, they’d always need a replacement.” 

“What are you implying?” I glared her down. 

She smiled innocently, then ran me into a tree. The air knocked out of me with a muffled noise as she shoved me into the rough bark, then pinned me by the arms to peer up at me. Still just as innocent, as if she wasn’t showing me the knife she’d stashed in the waistband of her dress. “You’re so cute, Margret,” she cooed. “Maybe it’s because you don’t belong here that you’re so innocent. That backwards country bumpkin thinking is almost… human.” She purred. “It makes you as sweet as it does weak. But I’m telling you, here and now, that I want the position, and I’ll do what it takes to get it.”

“I’m not fighting you.” I tried to glare at her. “I’m saying you can have it, and the Queen doesn’t want me. She’s never wanted me. And I don’t want her.” 

“Oh, trust me. She does. And it’s up to you in the end, to give up your position. But it’s also up to you how on you want to give it up. Shall we do it by a brutal murder? I could slice you through, one side of the neck to the other. Should we go back to the cliff so I can push you down properly this time? Or are you going to get a horse, and disappear into the Capital? I know a ship that could take you into the Ocean of Tears. You seem to like ships, don’t you?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I tried to push her off, but her grip just tightened. “I have my bother to take care of. And HE is the Queen’s favorite. She won’t leave him alone and I never even get to see him. I can’t just leave him. You understand that the Queen isn’t safe, right?” 

She just stared at me. 

“The Queen could just as easily kill him as invite him to tea,” I continued. “And it’s no secret that she’s done it before. I don’t want the position, I’ll give you the work, you can have it. I’m just here for my brother. I have to keep him safe.” 

“I don’t want the work, I want the position.” Her eyes gleamed as she pressed closer. “The title of Left Hand is as prestigious as it could get. I would be only one step below the Queen. I could rule alongside her. I could make my father proud. We’d be going the highest we ever had as a family. My mother would love me.”

“Your mother is dead, Sigil.” 

“Of course she is. She was human. Weak. But she’d still be proud. Hey,” she paused with a grin. “I’ll let your brother live, if you let me have it.” 

“Don’t you even dare,” I growled. My vision clouded. The grip on my arm was tight, but a flash of anger had me pushing back hard enough to send her nearly reeling. She pushed back, grinning wider. The struggle was evenly matched, but I kept having to avoid the knife. She didn’t seem to care that it was digging into her side.

“Oh, pushy pushy. You know, it feels like we’re dancing. What if we were lovers?” 

“What are you talking about?” I bit my lip. “Sigil, this is getting stupid. Just let me go, I’m not about to step on your toes. You can have it. I’m not going to fight you on this. We don’t have to fight. Just stop.”

“But I want to fight.” She kicked me in the shin, then pushed up to me until the gap was closed. 

She pressed her lips against mine, then. I went limp, staring in shock Sigil’s open eyed grin. Her grip seemed to relax, too. She hummed under her breath, pressing closer when she saw that I wasn’t fighting back, and licked my lips. Her mouth was chapped. She tasted like bitter syrup. She kept pushing, closer and closer, moving her leg in between mine and trying open my mouth with her tongue. That bitter taste was getting stronger and I couldn’t place it. I shivered, trying to clamp my mouth closed, a shiver going up my spine. She managed to get her leg in too far, and an electric feeling through me, oddly familiar. My eyes widened. 

When she pulled away, she was grinning like a cat that had got the cream. I was trying to breathe.

“Stole your first kiss.” She laughed.

“Leave me alone,” I panted. That feeling was still there. I crossed my legs.

“Why would I do that? You’re all red, Margy-“ 

“Don’t say that!” I shoved her off of me, then wiped my mouth. “You don’t get to say that.” 

“What, Margy?” 

“Stop it!” I pushed her down onto the cobbled path and faced little resistance. She grinned up at me, her hair fanning out behind her. She lifted a leg up to hitch her dress to her waist. 

“You’re a good kisser, Margy.” 

“Why won’t you just leave me alone!” I hissed. She laughed, pushed her leg up between mine, and grabbed me by the hair. 

“Maybe you want to be on top?” She asked. “I don’t mind being broken in. Trent’s a bad kisser, anyways. He’s already nine, you’d think he’d at least know how to purse his lips.” 

“Stop it, I-I don’t want anything!” Her grip was too strong. I couldn’t stop the leg that was grinding into my groin. I couldn’t think straight. 

“Maybe you do. Haven’t you ever had a crush on a guy? Do you like girls more, Margy? I like girls, sometimes. All the boys think they’re better than us, that they can kiss better than us, fuck better than us. But girls know how girls work.” She wouldn’t stop grinding. 

“Stop it-“

“Or maybe you prefer your brother.” Her eyes narrowed, and her leg stopped. “Are you waiting for the day his little cock responds to you? Maybe I should cut it off, and give it to you as a present.” 

I punched her in the face. 

It was just one. Only one. I stared at my own hand in shock, then at the Sigil. 

She grinned up at me. Her nose dripped. The blood pooled in droplets on the cobbled road, curling up in the crevices. She didn’t bother to wipe it.

“Hit me again, Margy,” she spat on the ground, then smiled serenely back up at me. “I want it.” 

I hit her again. 

And again. 

And again. 

The crack of bone never felt so satisfying. The slam of a fist against a nose that cracks like glass on impact was glorious. I revelled in the smell of blood. All of my focus was on her. She was smiling, enjoying every minute. 

Sylvia was the one that had to pull me off of her.

There was so much screaming. So much blood. I had felt her teeth crack under my fist, the bubbles of laughter as I pounded into her cheek and eyes. My hands were numb. The knuckles had been scraped away near to the bone, blood dribbling when I tried to straighten them out. I couldn’t tell what was hers and what was mine anymore. Sigil’s mouth was a mess of blood and broken teeth. She was crying her heart out now as she was tenderly picked up by a passing group of nobles, all of their furious expressions on me. On us, Sylvie and I. I couldn’t stop staring at the scene as I was being pulled away. She was stretched out like a fallen angel, her chest heaving in screams as she struggled to form words through a crooked face. My ears were filled with water and my eyes blurred as I was led into the castle.

Sylvia pulled me under her wing and flew us off to my room before I could form a thought. 

There were certainly words somewhere, inside my head. They floated around, asking formless questions to me and prodding me to say something to the woman who’s hand was holding my arm like I was about to run off to the Capital. But my tongue was fuzzy. The sound of my steps against the palace floor was muffled. The world was off. There was a faint ringing in my ears. I couldn’t seem to remember who I was. Sylvie pulled me from this hallway and that, through corridors and along crowds of people that stared at my dripping hands. Their mouths formed words I couldn’t hear and perhaps didn’t want to.

I couldn’t recall how I’d gotten there but I was in my room, sitting on a splendid little armchair with a basin of warm water beside me stained red. Sylvie sat on a bench huddled over my hands with worried eyes, gently dabbing an alcohol soaked cotton ball over the ruins of my knuckles. She could have been saying something, but I couldn’t hear it. Her mouth was barely moving behind those gritted teeth. I stared at her doing her work, diligently dabbing the swab and flinching when she saw raw flesh in place of skin. She went green when I twitched my hand, and the flesh moved. It seeped blood, oozing slowly as the clots began to form. Her mouth stopped moving, she closed it, then looked at me.

She smiled tiredly at me, and gently pet my hair. 

“It’s not your fault,” I just managed to catch her say to me. I blinked in a daze. 

“What?” 

“It’s not your fault,” she repeated. “That girl has something wrong with her. I don’t blame you.” Her smile didn’t rise to her eyes. 

“What happened?” I asked her. 

“You don’t know?” 

“I… I don’t know how we got here.” Bits and pieces of my mind were eating away at me. I looked over at my fist and tried to focus on the sound of birds by the window. “I can’t really remember.” Somewhere in the back of my mind there was guilt, and confusion, but I didn’t know where it belonged. 

“You attacked Sigil,” she said gently. “But you must have been provoked. That girl is a problem that I wish we could solve. But the Palace has more than one bad egg like that one. I knew that she’d been following you around, but I never imagined… This. Don’t worry your head about it Margret. I know you’re a good person.”

I looked up at Sylvie numbly. 

“I don’t feel any punches on me.” 

“Well…” She chewed her lip. “No. But you might not feel them. She could have had a knife, maybe she was threatening you. Are you alright? Did you hit your head at all? Is anything dizzy?” 

I frowned. “I don’t remember her attacking me.” Sylvia took my hand again and continued dabbing. 

“I’m worried you might have hit your head if you can’t remember the fight, Margret. We might have to get you to the clinic again and speak to the doctor. Are you sure you don’t know what happened? Anything at all? Do you know what she said to you? What started the fight?”

I stared at my broken hand and wracked my brain for the memories that seemed so far away. It was a dream I’d had and long since forgotten where none of the characters were real and I’d woken up only half remembering it. “I don’t think I hit my head. She was… Threatening Rettah, I think.” That made sense, but somehow it didn’t sit well. Her face was a half forgotten memory. Blood was still roaring in my ears. I furrowed my brows as I realized just how hard it was to remember. It shouldn’t have been like this. “She threatened to hurt him, so I punched her.”

“Margret, that doesn’t sound like you.” Sylvia paused again to look at me. She tilted my chin up gently to see her, and the sincere worry in her eyes only made it feel worse. “Whatever happened, there had to be a good reason for it. Try to remember, alright? I know you’re a good girl. I would never judge you.” She smiled, and the lines around her eyes wrinkled. 

A chill trickled down my spine as the memories began flooding back all at once. I stared at Sylvie with hollow eyes as I gripped her hand tightly. My knuckles began to ooze again, but I couldn’t have cared less. 

“She asked me to,” I whimpered. “She asked me to, and I did it. And I liked it.”


	14. Skylar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains: Underage, threesome, fisting, anal sex, femdom, incest, pain play, dirty talk, submission, rape.
> 
> Well, this took forever.

QUILL

I looked down at Lod adjusting the bright yellow tie. The faintest golden thread of sunflowers made it look entirely too bright and garish. “What do you think? Too flashy? I thought perhaps it would be too flashy.” 

“Well, I’m the one picking it out, so I’ll be the one to decide how flashy it has to be.” Lod looked up with a smile that made his eyes gleam before he went back to trying to try the damned thing properly. His own beige tie hung over his shoulders, his tweed waistcoat only half buttoned. The trousers weren’t much better, untied and unprepared with the faintest golden hairs trailing down his bellybutton to the prize he always liked to keep hidden. I’d managed to pull on my breeches, but the shoes were still unbuckled and the cloak was still hanging off the bed where if I could just… Just grab it….

“What are you doing?” Jillian asked from behind. Her body curved into mine as she slapped my hand for good measure.

“I just thought the cloak would tie it all together,” I said easily. My hand shook from the slap, but I said nothing. 

“A cloak would hide you away, and you know it.” she strutted over to Lod, laid a kiss on his cheek, then shoved him out of the way as she went to work on fixing the horrendous knot he’d created. Her hands worked deftly to unfurl the abomination. “You’re trying to show off today, Quill. That’s what you need to do. Remember?” She flicked her eyes up to my stormy expression, and softened it with a smile. “I know it’s difficult.” 

“I’m trying.” 

“You’re trying,” she agreed. “You took the tight-fitting breeches. They look lovely on you.” Her eyes trailed down to outline of the leggings, and I coughed through my blush. Her gaze was as hungry as the last time I’d fucked her, but that had been months. It was hard to differentiate these days, what touch was it that stroked down my chest when I wasn’t paying attention. It was almost never them, anymore. And when it was, it was difficult to remember I was allowed to enjoy it. Touch. That was something people didn’t realize mattered so much. The briefest of encounters in a hallway, the quick thinking on Jillian’s part, that’s what allowed us to have that safety. But it wasn’t something that I could count on. I couldn’t use it to forget anymore, not when it felt so similar to everything else. 

I told them I wouldn’t think too deeply on it. Not today, at least. 

“Well, thank you…” I bit my lip. “Do you think It will be enough, though?” 

“You’re both already overdressed,” she lamented. “But that’s the way it’s always been. So you’re fitting the bill already.” Carefully, she fixed the tie so it would properly fit the black waist coat and off-white blouse, then she looked down to the buckles of my shoes. As she did, her gaze paused on my groin. She laid a hand on the inside of my thigh as she knelt purely for the purposes of fixing the buckles, but I couldn’t help but shiver at that feather-light touch. Her fingers were strong, supple, and unyielding. “I remember when I first got a chance to have a slave for my own, officially,” she said. “It was annoying, the first shipment when I turned sixteen didn’t have any men. And then I did get one, but it wasn’t anything special when I finally got down to it. He couldn’t make me come, couldn’t even really get it up. And I didn’t like him much, anyways. He was too old.” 

“Why did you pick someone you didn’t like?” Lod asked. There was a bristle in his voice as he watched his sister. I smiled faintly, but I probably mirrored him. 

“Slim pickings for noble women,” she sighed. “There’s a host of entertainment women of all shapes and sizes. But when it comes to men, it seems that first and foremost they’re used to heavy labor, rather than sex. They’re not trained to please, no training at all more like. I suppose I could have had a women myself, but I wasn’t particularly interested in that endeavor. A man has a cock, after all. It’s all about scratching an itch.” Her fingers nimbly went over the buckles on my shoes, but when she finished, she paused and narrowed her eyes up at me. A faint smirk etched itself on her features. “You’ve grown, Quill.” 

“What do you mean?” I shivered faintly. 

“Well, both of you have. I didn’t really notice. But you and Lod are taller. I suppose we haven’t had the chance to properly see each other so intimately. You’ve grown a lot, at least in a year.” She pressed her cheek to the inside of my leg and looked over at her brother. Lod was trying in his haste to button up his coat in a desperate attempt to ignore the attention, but he was hopeless with even the buttons. A servant would have been called in, but they were keeping any others away for my sake until the deed required we take our leave. “Taller, broader… Bigger…” She glanced back at me. 

I held in a whimper. “Bigger?” 

“Well, not quite satisfyingly large.” She stroked a finger over the edge of the faint cock imprint I thought I was keeping firmly hidden. But from this angle she could see it all. “You’d probably be more from than that slave, though. Both of you would. If you’re getting bigger, I can only imagine how large Lod has become.” She laughed. “I wonder if I should leave a wet spot when you go to look at the latest shipment of entertainment girls. Do you think they’d be impressed with a cum stain on your pants?” 

I went mute. I looked down at Jillian’s platinum locks, her vibrant yellow eyes, and the dress that no longer needed to push up the bust she had, and I couldn’t seem to form an answer to that question. She’d grown too, more than she might have realized. Her bosom pushed back in a war against the fabric of her dress that fanned out in a circle beneath her. The waist came together in a loose bodice, ending at the base of her bust, and allowing her spill out into the flowing fabric above it. I could see down her shirt from this angle. Her nipples pressed hard against the soft material, barely hidden. 

Across the room, Lod had stopped mid way through tying up his trousers to stare at us with wide eyes, the drawstrings still in his hands. He slowly gulped, a dark red blush going up to his ears, and then his mouth went slack as the air shifted in the room.

“Do we have time?” I asked through gritted teeth. 

“I don’t know. Do we have time?” She looked back to Lod. Moonstruck, he looked between us and the window with his drawstrings still in his hands before he found himself and hastily began to tie them up. 

“We have time,” he said nervously. “But there’s going to be other nobles waiting for this. The first shipment of the year is going to have everyone excited for it. And your father is watching, we can’t forget that. He might not realize the plan, but he certainly knows how old we both are. It would be just like him to take the lot before we had the chance to get there and go through the pickings left behind. Any entertainment girl would do, but…” He bit his lip, now thoughtfully fixing up his tie to look like an eyesore. “All the same, if we arrive too early, he’ll find some way to get all of us off again, and you… Well…”

Jillian tightened her grip on my leg when she felt me shivering. 

“That’s not going to happen,” I said. “We’ll ignore him, focus on the issue at hand, and make a show of it.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” Jillian pressed her face against my leg and worriedly looked up at me. “If the arses couldn’t care less what you fuck?” 

I trailed off and felt my fingers begin to go numb. “That won’t happen,” I said softly. “We have only this chance. But we can do it.” 

“If it doesn’t work,” she continued. “Then there are still other ways. We need to think of all possibilities. We could leave. I’m old enough now. Nineteen is more than enough to hire a horse and leave for the Capital. I wouldn’t even be considered strange for it.” 

“And leave your shoe-in for Hand?” I blinked at her. “You couldn’t. We’ve been through this Jill, I thought you understood.” 

“Fine, I understand it, but I don’t like it.” Her eyes darkened. “I don’t see the point of being Hand when I can do nothing to stop what you go through. There’s no way your father is going to make you Hand at this rate. He’d be playing even more of a farce. He’d be a fool to sign it off to Lod as well, but then I suppose he’s been thinking with his… Not with his head.”

“No.” I nudged her off of me. “Definitely not with the right head, anyways.” 

“Jill,” Lod whined. 

“You too with the tie, huh?” She sighed, stood up still a head taller than either of us, and let her dress swish dramatically as she walked over to Lod to fix him. “Here, you’ve made a right mess of yourself, haven’t you.” Tenderly, she pulled his coat together, then went about fixing his tie with a sad smile. 

“Of course my father hasn’t been thinking straight,” I said, sitting back against the bed. “Neither has the Lord. Neither has anyone in this godforsaken castle. He had me believing so many different manipulative lives that I’ve elected to ignore the whole of them. I can’t consider him credible in any light anymore, nor my mother. Nor anyone else.” I held up a shaking hand. It had gotten worse. “And all of this isn’t because of any plan, isn’t because of any nefarious scheme that’s in any way political. He’s just a horny old bastard. Now Lod’s never taking the position of Hand, you’ll only take Left Hand if you can entirely rewrite the system and speak out against it all, and I would never take the spot if he paid me. All three of us, and he ruined it all. Did you ever speak with your father? Did you find out if he dealt with the same?” 

“We couldn’t,” Lod whimpered. “How could we come to father and ask him if he’d ever been hurt the same way you had? That’s not something you can dredge up lightly. And to ask that to our own father, it would hurt him. I know it would. He’d probably like to live in ignorance that his children aren’t caught in the middle of this hailstorm.”

“Both of you sound like crying children,” Jillian muttered, fixing the drawstrings to his trousers and then standing back to view him. “No, Quill, we didn’t go to our father. He holds no power over yours, there wouldn’t be a point other than to corroborate the abuse. And both of us are aware that regardless of what else goes on, there is abuse. And no one is doing anything about it. So, we’re going to focus on the one piece of good advice the Lord gave you, and we’re going to remake your image. Alright?”

“Which means I can’t have you two anymore,” I said gruffly. 

“Which means we’ll need to be secretive,” Jillian argued. “I’m not about to let the boy with the greatest tongue in the world slip out from between my legs and escape to some human’s arms.” She smirked. “You’re worth too much to me for that. And you,” She punched Lod’s shoulder. “Have a fat cock and I don’t want that to go anywhere either. Unless it’s pounding into Quill. Got it?”

“Got it,” he whimpered. Both of us blushed as we caught each other’s eye. Lod had definitely grown. I could barely remember the last time I’d had him. He could feel that too, that tension that had me leaving the bed and walking over to the two of them until I was pressing up against him and feeling the faint edge of his hardening cock in his trousers. 

“We have time,” I muttered. “Right?” 

“Not much,” he squeaked. “Some.”

“Then sit down, Lod, so you can impale me on that cock of yours.” 

“Quill!” But he did as I said, faltering backwards as I nudged him until he fell back into the armchair situated in the corner of the room, his eyes wide as I climbed onto his lap. He had the faintest beginnings of a beard on his chin. I stroked there as I pressed a knee into his groin, and listened to him moan at the edge of his breath. Jillian leaned against the chair and watched how speechless Lod became, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly as he tried to think of what to say. I pressed my lips to his neck. Broad shouldered, big, and still my Lod. 

“Just a quick fuck, alright? We’ll go down there with your cum inside me. Yours.” I held him tightly. Softly, I trembled in his grasp. He gripped my wrist with a worried look, but I closed my eyes and turned into his shoulder. “I just want to feel like myself again, with you two. Before the end.”

“This doesn’t have to be an end,” Lod whimpered. “I’m still yours. We’re still together. We’ll always be here.” He tried to hold me against him, but I slipped out of his fingers as I went to untie those trousers. His underclothes peeled away, and the hardening cock I found was even bigger than I remembered. 

“Do you think you could break me, this time?” I asked him. Shoulders hunched, my eyes peering up at him through half opened lids, I whispered those words with more than a hint of need. Desperately, I held onto his thigh and listened to his heartbeat.

“You – you have to be in a stable state when we get there,” he stuttered. I sighed, nodded my head, and stroked over his velvet head as I pulled down the tight breeches and let my own cock breathe. 

“I know. I just… I miss when you and Jillian hurt me. When we played with each other.” Climbing over that erection felt mechanical. I had to remind myself who I was touching. Lod was there, same as ever, his eyes wide with shock at what we were doing, the biggest red flush on his cheeks, his entire body rigid as he struggled with the proper way to hold onto me. This was Lod, who’d gone swimming with me in the pond since we could walk, who’d helped me steal Jillian’s undergarments when she wasn’t looking, who’d spent hours with me exploring the castle and getting lost in the process. This was Lod, who’d shown me just how much it could hurt to have sex, and just how much I wanted it. 

I pressed my cheek into the crook of his neck, took a deep breath, and angled his cock at my entrance. 

“Quill – we should prep,” Lod whimpered. “How are you going to walk if we don’t? I told you I wasn’t going to break you.” 

“I’m too impatient,” I whined, but I let him part me with his fingers regardless. I moaned softly as he pumped a knuckle in, roughly thrusting the fingers inside and stretching them apart when he’d gotten deeper. He’d gotten two inside with ease, and was shoving in a third when I looked up and caught Jillian’s eye. That intense stare, watching me. Smirking at me. She saw the way I winced, shuddered and whimpered, and she grinned. 

I held that look as I drew my legs further apart for Lod. 

When he finally dropped his fingers, I braced myself for him. His cock pushed in, that head stretching those already loosened muscles to their limit, and I slowly moved back on it with a pained wail. A shudder ripped through me, I clenched around him, and he moaned with me as he pulled me slowly down by my waist onto his massive erection. 

Slow, deep thrusts pushed that hot, beating erection in deeper and deeper. I tried to think of who it belonged to. I couldn’t keep my eyes closed. I had to watch him, the way his eyebrows twisted in focus, his panting, hitched moans as I clenched down on him. He wasn’t smaller than father. He wasn’t bigger than a few of the guards. He wasn’t minuscule compared to that candlestick the tutor thought it would be fun to shove inside me. He was just Lod. Lod, fucking me deeply on the armchair while Jillian watched us with hungry eyes. I held his shoulders, moved my legs roughly apart, and let him fuck me however he wanted. He was using me, just like he always had. But it was different. It had always been different, to know there was love when we weren’t busy pretending we wanted to bring each other low. 

I didn’t notice it then, when Jillian had moved in front of us. 

Her finger stroked over that connection between us with a reverent touch, the small cloud of breath of her mouth from being too close making both of us twitch in shock and arousal.

“Jill,” I whimpered, glancing back down to see how she poked a finger alongside Lod’s cock. “What are you doing?” 

“Playing,” she grinned. “Mother always used to say how I never played enough with dolls. So I thought I’d try it more.” She pushed a finger in slowly alongside Lod’s thrusting cock, and a sharp painful jolt went through me. The stretch was fiery, I clenched down on it, and Lod was still thrusting, his eyes wide and uncertain but not in any state to keep himself from cumming. He was already so close, and this was going to send me over the edge. “I always thought you were cutest like this, Quill. Plugged up with your brother, moaning away, tears in your eyes… It’s so cute.” She tugged at Lod’s cock, and Lod jumped with a hitched whine. 

“Jill,” he whimpered in embarrassment. His cock didn’t stop thrusting. It seemed to twitch, the more she tugged at it. 

“Oh, Loddy,” she crooned. “Not to worry, you’re cute too. Like a dog, so bestial, so focused on thrusting that he doesn’t even notice what’s going on around him. Your cock’s gotten too fat for your own good now. You’re decimating your brother.” Her smirk widened as she pushed that finger deeper inside me. “You’ll make him bleed again if you keep it up. Didn’t you say you wanted to be careful? Poor Quill.” 

Shivering, I lapped at Lod’s ear, then tugged it with my teeth and relished the way he thrust even faster. “It hurts, Lod,” I whimpered in need. When he turned to me in shock, I captured his lips and whined into his mouth. “Make it hurt more…” 

“Stop it,” he stuttered. But he was nearly as gone as the rest of us. Pounding into me without a care, just listening to my wretched sobs and moans, his grip tightened enough to bruise my waist. His hands had gotten so big. They wrapped around my hips, using the leverage he needed to utterly break me from below. And Jill was there too, thrusting two fingers alongside, tugging his cock nearly enough to pull it out, and laughing when Lod pushed it back inside. Every touch of her made my cock jump against my stomach, every poke and prod making both of us whimper. Lod would flinch, jump, but his cock would only grow larger, and he wasn’t slowing down. I hung my head in shame and rocked back against the two of them, my tongue half lolled and a fresh blush on my cheeks. She was laughing to herself, her voice tinged with want, and she was making the two of us harder than ever. I pressed my cheek against his neck again, closed my eyes, and felt him finish inside me with a hiss.

Hot spurts of semen decorated my insides, and I rocked against that wonderful feeling I could never seem to get enough of. I was filled again, and it felt right. It was Lod, filling me up, using me as whatever he wanted, and I was more than happy to sit there and take it. 

My cock lay untouched pressed up against his stomach when he was finally done with me. 

“Did you finish?” He asked with a hint of a whine in his voice. His breath was still ragged and harsh. 

“No,” I whispered. His cock was still twitching, but it was growing soft and small. Abruptly, I flinched as I felt it being pulled out without much elegance, and in its place were two hard implements rocking that semen deeper inside me. 

Jillian added two more fingers, her nimble touch moving far faster than Lod. 

“Wow, you’re all stretched out now,” She mumbled. “I can do four, and you don’t even wince. I thought I was supposed to break you, Quill?” I flinched, and felt my cheeks go steadily redder. 

“Jill, you don’t… You don’t have to.” I huddled against Lod, panting softly and letting her continue. Lod stared in the haze of his afterglow with a faint blush, rubbing the small of my back and gently pressing kisses to my neck.

“It’s not about whether I have to. It’s whether I have the privilege of it. Stop whining. Do you think I could fist you, Quill?” She asked. 

“I don’t know,” was all I could whimper. The thought made my stomach drop, but I was too aroused to say no. Even with it at the edge of my voice, she was adding a thumb to her fingers and slowly, deeply rocking the rest of her hand inside. 

It wasn’t Lod’s hand, but it wasn’t small. I hissed, panted, and felt a stretch that reminded me far too much of that damned candle. But I smelled Lod, and I heard Jillian, and I lifted my hips up to meet the fist that used Lod’s cum as lube and managed to get as far as her own wrist. She rocked it faster then, listening to my hitching moans and grinning wider when Lod took up my cock and began to stroke. 

I was sandwiched between them, played with at both ends, and unable to think straight. I rocked back into Jill, moved my hips forward to meet Lod, only have Jillian push closer and press me right up against that stroking hand that gently squeezed the head and stroked far too fast for the purposes of getting me to finish. 

“We’re running out of time,” He whimpered. I could barely understand what he said, but he was rough. Painfully rough. Jillian was worse. 

“Out of time, already?” She grumbled, and thrust her hand in experimentally deeper. I keened, and rocked into Lod’s quick and rough ministrations. “I was enjoying myself here. I can see a bump in his stomach. It’s cute,” she purred. 

“Jill,” I moaned. 

“Please finish Quill,” Lod whimpered by my ear. “Just cum in my hand. Get it over with.”  
I finished in heaven. 

Jillian slowly removed her fist when I squirted against my own stomach. I turned back to see her smile, then immediately run to the bathroom to clean herself up. 

“I suppose we’re going to need to get dressed again,” I muttered against Lod’s chest. His wide eyes were own my stomach, and the splatter of semen still dripping down to my belly button. 

“That’s…” 

“Hot?” 

He blushed. 

“I’ve seen it before,” I murmured, but I held my tongue after that. We didn’t need this moment spoiled. We were happy right now. I was happy. Lod was smiling down at me, Jillian was probably grinning from ear to ear, and I was supposed to smile too. I just found it difficult, is all.

I could only wish the afterglow of orgasm didn’t feel so tainted. 

When Jillian was done, and she’d come back to yell once again at the state of ourselves and graciously tie us back together, we walked through the halls one after the other. 

I led that group of us, leading the front with the bravado I’d trained myself for ever since we’d come up with this plan. What was meant to be done required tact, confidence, and strength I had to pretend was always endowed within me. I couldn’t turn my head from side to side for fear of making eye contact with past endeavours of the palace, but I knew they were there. Those eyes that flicked back and forth between us knowing full well what my appearance could suggest were lost in the ignorance of Jillian and Lod, and I couldn’t blame them for it. Lod was young, Jillian was brash, and neither understood fear in the same way I did these days. I loved them both dearly, more than words could express, but to know that they would never understand things quite the same way I did, well… The drift between us only seemed to grow as months passed. Not seeing them as often secured that feeling of isolation that I worried they understood too. 

“What kind of girls do you think will be there?” Lod asked from behind my shoulder. I relaxed my shoulders somewhat, and basked in his voice a little longer. 

“I’d imagine they’re cute,” I said. 

“What does that mean, “cute?”” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” I said thoughtfully. “I just imagined it that way.” 

“Like me?” Jill teased from the other side. 

“Attractive. I don’t know. Someone I like.” Frustrated, I picked at my tie. It was too bright. I knew it. 

“Well, they’re all supposed to be attractive,” Jill teased. “You know, all curves, ribs, long legs, large breasts barely covered by rags. Shaved from the neck down for your pleasure. And I hear that there’s a few raven haired ones that are particularly salivating. Everyone’s a sucker for black hair. Even if it is human.” 

“I can’t say I’m much a fan of black hair,” I mused. “Mustn’t it be hard to wash?” 

“I don’t believe that’s how it works,” she chuckled. “Have you ever even thought of a woman before, Quill?” 

“That’s no way to talk about yourself, Jill.” She scoffed. I shrugged and tried to hide a laugh. “The servants here are so invisible, I don’t really notice them. And I can’t say I’ve ever been fond of the other children our age. They don’t tend to pay us much mind, but I haven’t a care one way or the other. Let them think we hate them.” 

“Perhaps therein lies our problem.” I chose to ignore that. 

“Are the entertainment girls at least a little more eye-catching than the servants?” I asked instead. 

“Oh Quill,” she chuckled. “You have no idea.” 

“I’m not sure I want to meet them now, they sound terrifying. Like otherworldly beasts.” Lod bit his lip and put his hands in his pockets. “If I were to have a woman, I’d want one that wasn’t as viscerally attractive. Maybe Quill is onto something. Cute sounds manageable.”

“I’m telling you, they have someone for everyone. You’ll find a girl. Tall, short, full breasted, flat. Whatever your horny heart desires. Perhaps, if we’re very lucky, there may even be a boy.” Her eyes drooped in thought, a slow, sly grin slowly widening. “On second thought, I’d claim that as my own. He could be my doll.” 

“Subjecting some human to your sadistic tendencies when you have a perfectly good brother,” I shook my head. “What sorrow.” 

“Allow me to experiment, Quill, I haven’t the mind for perfect sessions.” 

“If you did pick a boy to keep, I’d hide him away,” Lod mumbled. “You’d never give him a moment’s peace.” 

Jillian clapped him over the back with a laugh, then bit his ear to watch him stumble. 

One step after another introduced us to a throne room of beautiful golden hues. An arched ceiling overhead was framed by heavy wooden trunks of trees long since felled and carefully positioned to offer the ambient tone of a forest. Hanging on every wall were tapestries depicting the harvest, the Lord, and the generosity that the Kingdom was famous for. Our cattle, our grains, all of it was celebrated on golden wall after golden wall framed in brown and yellow thread. The overwhelming sunny pallor echoed in the rest of the massive room, in embellishments on the crenelations above the walls, the side tables supporting vases filled with sunflowers, the display cases filled with old forgotten relics that must have mattered to someone at some point, and that throne that lay untouched for centuries. Standing atop a raised platform with long, curved stairs leading down to the rest of us nobility, it was like the Lord itself graced us with his silent appearance. There was no difference between them. Both were beautiful golden chairs that were for little more than being sat upon. Only, one was more comfortable, with cushions made of silken gold, a straight back emblazoned with spades, and curved vine accents that branched out to reach towards the opposite sides of the room. This Lord was silent, thank God. 

Where the Lord was absent, the Lord nobility made up for with their prominence in the coming excitement of a slaver’s visit. The palace’s heart was filled with them, all in their best states of dress as they took the opportunity to work as little as possible and enjoy each other’s company, as well as impress whomever had brought them their fucktoys. Voices of powerful men in the prime of their career laughed among each other with jokes from their exploits and vices. Their cliques gathered in circles, some on the freshly swept carpet that guided visitors to the empty throne, and some off to the side near the tapestries that no one ever looked too closely at. One of them in the center held in their hands a small snuff box that he took from before offering it to the throng around him. 

“The most wondrous stuff from the Capital,” he explained through a manicured mustache and small threads of a beard. His stout body was wrapped in silks, but what wasn’t covered was filled with hair. Though unattractive, elderly, and out of his element, his generosity in sharing his vice allowed for him to be accepted into the group of much taller, much leaner, and much younger nobility. He looked at a few of them with the familiar wanting eyes of a deviant entranced with youth and beauty, but they looked down at him as nothing more than a means to an end. I suppose he would have been disappointed in the lack of men the slaver brought, if he was out here rather than in the holding barracks. 

Another group off to the side chatted adamantly with a strange looking fellow I’d only recognized by his whip. The slaver had striking eyes the color of sapphires, but his hair was a dull, dusty blue and mixed with brown. Pale as snow, the Duchess noble held up a glass of wine and shifted his position on the luxurious couch as he toasted the noble women gathered around him with a laughing smile. The girls all fell upon themselves in laughter, fanning each other and pushing their breasts up against their bodices for extra emphasis. He soaked up that laughter, took another drought of wine, then pulled a young lady into his lap to discuss the differences between her and some common human, and just how much he preferred noble pussy. 

Their husbands pointedly ignored the chiseled young man that had stolen their wives away, favouring that very human pussy he seemed to dislike. They were stationed like guards outside the open door to the holding barracks, listening intently to the noises of moans and screams echoing faintly from that darker room. Some grinned from an exploit they’d just had, some cuddled with the half naked woman they’d chosen instead of leaving quickly with their conquest as they should have. But all were reaping the enjoyment that the Lord had provided for them. A slave shipment a year on the Lord’s own investment for the happiness of his subjects always went over well. I wondered if he’d ordered it himself. If he had me in mind. 

A useless delusion, really. 

Jillian bristled as she took in the scene. Lod reached out for my hand, but I ducked away as I headed for that open door. 

“Wait,” Jillian grabbed my arm. “Should we go so soon? What about introducing you to the slaver?” She pressed closer and hissed. “We’re being watched.” 

She was right. The faces on each and every one of the nobility around us were the faces of enemies, curiously watching their prey standing in the middle of their territory. We were the youngest, the most unprepared, the most ripe for the picking. They were feasting, and still judging whether or not we were food. They’d already made their minds up about me. 

Which meant it was useless to stand here waiting for them to change their minds. 

“Then let them watch.” 

“Quill, perhaps, a moment longer.” She was holding onto something so selfishly. I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t stand to be in this state a moment longer than I needed to be. 

“I came here to do something, and I fully intend to do it. This is why we’re here. If you don’t want to follow me, if you’re frightened, then let me be.” I pulled away from her arm with a scowl, perhaps harder than I intended to. Jillian held out her hand a moment longer, watching me go with a soft, worried whimper that I almost didn’t believe was hers. Lod stood beside her, tugging on her sleeve to let me go.

“He’s so close, now. He needs this,” he murmured. “Give him time.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” she said. “Time.” 

I turned about to the door with a steady step, falling past those nobles that I’d fucked not long ago and those that were still in line. Jillian and Lod stared at my back, I could feel it on my nape. But we were wasting time. We weren’t the same children we’d been. We couldn’t stay together. If my father wasn’t already here, he would be soon, and then he’d use some glare of his to remind me of my place, and that it wasn’t moving on with my life and becoming a man. 

I had to do. Just a girl, a fuck, a slave for myself, and that would be the end of it. I would be free. 

Hedonism was a word for it. The slave barracks lit by candles and heady through incense the scent of fruits long since rotted away. And the walls bounced with the moans and sighs of women already claimed and men far too impatient to wait. A raven haired girl enjoyed being pounded from behind on the floor in the middle of that entrance, her eyes turning up to me in a seductive smile as a familiar guard took her unyielding. The man with ruddy mustard eyes looked up to see me, huffed, then returned to his conquest with new speed at seeing a previous exploit of his. Behind her, the rows of beds meant for rest were being enjoyed by other men that must not have been satisfied with their wives and myself. Women on men, around men, sucking them, fucking them, beaten by them. Screams, moans, whimpers, all of it filled that room until walls were near to bursting. The gentlemen had already left with their prizes, leaving those testing out their possible slaves and those that preferred to rut on the spot in the sight of others that would look upon them and marvel at their manhood. The low ambiance provided some privacy, a mood of sorts that I found myself not particularly enjoying. It did little to stop my quickly beating heart. I kept imagining my father’s eyes behind me as I stepped forward. 

In the center of the room was the pitifully short commodity of women still waiting to be picked. Girls too young to be considered useful, girls inexperienced, girls too old to be attractive in the eyes of picky, horny men. They all seemed to have something in common. 

I stopped short, and watched the mirror had been placed in front of me. 

Fear. 

A elder woman held onto a girl that couldn’t have been older than me. The child shook, her clothes ripped open front the front. Ahead of a her was a man on a bed in the middle of his orgasm. The girl beneath him screamed. The terrified girl turned into the woman, who covered her eyes and spoke against her ear. 

I faltered another step forward when that same girl was ripped from the center of the group and thrown onto the bed by another familiar man, one who I was well aware of. His sadistic tendencies went far. At the first slap, that girl was bursting into tears, and the elder woman could only watch, her hands outstretched like Jillian’s had been just a minute ago. The screams just added to the ones that I’d heard when I’d walked in. She was just a part of the background now, another hole to be filled. 

With every second I stared at them, the blood drained out of my cheeks. The incense was overwhelming, I couldn’t breathe. It came out in gasps. A great hand had been clasped around my neck like a chain and was gripping tighter. I held up a hand and saw the way it shook. I looked back over at the women. They looked at me with hopeless eyes. Waiting for me to make my choice of meat cut.

I’d seen that look so many times. Every morning, in my looking glass, wishing I didn’t have to leave my room.

“Do you want us, sir?” A woman hissed. I took a step back. 

“Yes, which one?” A younger one whimpered. “Just pick already.” 

“Who do you want?” 

“Don’t you want us?” 

“You need us.” 

“To be a man.” 

“To be just like them.” 

“To be like your father.” 

“To fuck us just like he might fuck you.” 

A hand slapped me on the back, and my father glared down at me. 

“My son isn’t interested. Is he?” 

I couldn’t breathe.

In another blink, he was gone. The room was heavy. 

It was just the familiar sound of moans now. No words, just screams. Sex. In every state, from enjoyment, to pain, to fear. It was just a room. I had to blink several times, pinch my arm, try to understand what was real anymore. My mind was being pulled apart piece by piece. I tried to take a step, tried to feel my own legs again. The women flinched away the closer I got, so I faltered left. 

And then I noticed her. Brown hair, brown eyes, thin, and scared. Just as scared as all the others. 

She hid off to the side, and stared ahead at another coupling. With every moan, she flinched. There was no woman to comfort her. They held each other close like fearful goats in a pen, but she was the one that they’d left behind. Her cheeks sunken, her lips cracked and dry, there wasn’t anything special. She wasn’t pretty. Chest relatively flat, hips thin; she was young. She wasn’t any different from me. A soft, gasping breath made her body shake. What had once been curled, wavy hair now hung in dirty, matted ringlets. In her hands, she held the hem of a ratty dress. She tensed when the woman ahead of her faked an orgasm. 

I couldn’t leave empty-handed. 

I held out a hand in front of her. She stared at it like it was a snake, then finally seemed to notice me. 

“Are you sure you want me, sir?” She asked softly. I could barely hear her above a shriek. I tried to smile at her. She didn’t smile back. 

Ashamed, I tried to look her in the eye but found I couldn’t. “Are you hungry?” I asked.

She waited for the price of that answer. 

I dropped to my knees. “We can get food. And then clothes.” There were tears in my eyes, and she stared right at them. Haunted, terrified eyes. Flecks of green inside them. Dirt covered her cheek. “My name is Quill. I don’t want anything.” 

“Everyone wants something, sir.” 

“Then… Your name. I just want your name.” 

She slowly raised a shivering hand, then grabbed mine in a surprising grip. Everything about her trembled, unsure, afraid, but that grip was strong. She let me pull her up, and then I had her in my arms, and she was whispering. 

“Skylar,” she said. “My name is Skylar.”


	15. Asentual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever.

MARGRET 

I told him not to go out that day. 

I sat at the desk in my room, scribbling over the work my tutor had given me. The numbers were swimming around my head. Every time I tried to jot them down, they leapt up again, and I could never seem to catch up to them. When I finally made it to the end of the page, the accounts and lines of expenses never matched. Somewhere through all of that income, accounts payable and receivable, taxes, I’d make a mistake. With my luck, I’d made several. I frowned each time, rubbed out the scribbles, started on a new piece of paper, and only seemed to achieve the same result. The fear I’d had at not being able to accomplish the task had long since rubbed away. Now my only issue was the boredom of a useless task to while down the hours before Sylvia came in to tell me to sleep. 

She’d place a blanket around my shoulders each and every night, rub the back of my neck, and lead to my bed with a tired but understanding smile. Perhaps she’d ask me why I spent all of my time in my room, why I wouldn’t join the others in an exploration outside of the castle, why I wouldn’t interact with the rest of the nobility. I was old enough for a servant of my own, she’d say, I could have my pick of a boy. Then she’d pause, add girl on the end of that, and not pause to see how my grip on the lead had nearly broken it. 

I’d tell her I had her, and ignore the pain in my throat as I was put to bed. She’d ask me if I’d ever thought any boys interesting to look at it, and would give me a meaningful look. I’d turn away, smile, and tell her I didn’t have the stomach for romance in a world like this. 

She’d leave me alone, then. Perhaps with a pastry on the side table for me to wake up to when I felt like eating again. I didn’t eat much, these days. 

But I’d remember her touch on my shoulder, and that would be what would let me sleep each night I didn’t have Rettah beside me. Each and every night, almost all of them, where I’d be alone, and Rettah would be somewhere out there in the castle having tea with a Queen that was carefully cultivating her next lover. 

I placed the lead down and glared at the numbers, then wiped my eyes of the tears to see them better. He could have just as easily found a friend, or even found sanity. It was possible. I wanted to believe that he’d wake up one day and he’d see what this world was that we’d been forced into. And then I could hold him, tell him I loved him, and run as far away from it all as we could. 

I heard the door open. 

“It’s too early, Sylvia, the candle hasn’t burned down yet.” I prodded the wax candle with at least two hours of light left in it. 

“Margy,” were all the words out of his mouth before I was covering my brother in kisses. I went from my desk to covering the boy with the biggest, warmest hug I could manage. He stumbled back, but he was smiling. 

“Rettah!” He was as wriggly as ever, but I still managed to capture him in my grasp. “It’s been ages,” I exclaimed. He stood tall now, bright eyed, hat sitting perfectly upon his head. Sometimes I wondered if he got it fitted. But no, he wasn’t some little boy anymore. If I was eighteen then… Thirteen, it must have been. He’d spent most of his life in this castle. I could only hope he remembered a before. 

He looked older, certainly, not as tall as me, but that baby fat was gone. His outfit tailor made for him made him a dapper young gentleman. A black suit, a red tie, dress shoes, and smooth brown trousers. Too much black for him, I thought. He’d look better in grey, and he looked so confined in such a trim suit. I stroked over his chin to feel for hair, breathed a sigh of relief when I felt none, then held him tighter. “You look like father.” 

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited much,” He mumbled into my hand as he looked up at me. “No one ever seems to give me rest.” 

“That doesn’t matter,” I smiled. “You’re okay, and you’re safe here, so I don’t mind. Are you eating well? Are you exercising? How are your studies?” I led him into the dimly lit room, a cheery candle glowing on the desk beside an exercise meant to emulate an account book for a season. He followed reluctantly, but when I pulled him into my lap and hugged him as I had so many times before, he seemed to melt into my grasp, and then we were together again as we should have been. I tossed his head to the side to run a hand through his ragged hair. I couldn’t contain the chuckles when I noticed how much of a rat’s nest it had become. 

“I’m doing well,” he purred. The soft, wonderful sound echoed through his body in comforting vibrations, and I emulated the same. The two of us were vibrating, comforting machines, and to hear that sound again, so strong and alive, it made my heart soar. “I’m always being brought along to do things, to help the guards, the Queen… Everyone seems to have something for me to do. The guards love to spend time talking about the city with me, and all of the things you can buy there. And then the Queen always seems to want to talk about the things I’ve done every day and play games, and drink tea with pastries. The kitchen staff are trying to fatten me up even more than her, I think.” He chuckled. “I wake up every morning with a feast and I don’t know what to do with it, so I have the servants come and eat a big meal together.” 

“That sounds lovely, Rettah.” I tried to run a hand through his hair to pull at the knots. He didn’t seem to mind, but I couldn’t make a dent in the unruly mess. “They treat you kindly?” 

“Always. Dannielle and Henrietta as so kind – they’re the main servants that care for me right now. We eat together every day.” He paused, then tugged the ruffle of my sleeve. “I wanted you to come to, but they kept saying you were busy. Even if you weren’t, they had me running off to tutoring as soon as it was over. I never even get a chance to come to see you in between. It’s always so busy. But I want to visit, I really do. I don’t like to leave you alone. Sylvia told me you spend so much time in here. Are you okay? Are you eating enough?” He prodded a rib. “I know you don’t feel the hunger pains, but you should eat anyways.” 

“I have more than enough, Rettah. I don’t particularly fancy pastries, but I have enough meat and carrots, I’ll be alright.” I lovingly stroked his cheek, and he fell into the touch. “Are you being overworked? Are you happy?” 

“I’m happy.” He broke out into a big smile, and my heart soared. “Especially when the Queen calls on me. She’s always the highlight of my day. She has some interesting story, and a new pastry that the cook is trying out, or some fruits from another country. And she gives me so many presents. She makes them make time for her, so I don’t have to worry about my schedule with her.” 

I tried to hold the smile. “The Queen has been good to you, then?” 

“Always. She has the most wonderful tea parties, just her and I. Sometimes I wish you could come too, but Sylvia always says no… And then the Queen said no as well.” He frowned. “She loves to hear the stories I have of whenever I go out into the gardens and play with the other children, though. We always tell each other stories.” 

“You play with the other children?” I asked incredulously. A Hand treated with the same respect as any other child in the kingdom filled me with worried doubt. 

“All the time. They love hide and seek. Or at least, they used to. Lately they’ve been spending a lot of time playing different kinds of games.” I saw him blush for the first time as he lowered his voice shyly. “I’m not particularly fond of being locked in a closet with a girl.” 

I hid a smile, and caressed his bangs until he had to blow the things out of his eyes. “No, I imagine not. You don’t have to play those games if you don’t want to.” 

“I’m not sure. I think they like to play those games a lot, and I don’t want to disappoint them. But then one of them kissed me and it was very strange.” 

“You had your first kiss?” My grip tightened on him. 

He blinked. “I think so. With one of the stable hand girls. Are you alright, Margy? You’re shaking.” 

I held him as tight as I could, and tried to smile. “I missed your first kiss,” I managed as I gripped him tightly. It took a lot of pulling and gentle hitting to let me let go of him. 

“It wasn’t that big of a deal! It was only a peck and then I didn’t play those games anymore!” He laughed, a soft, jingling laugh that was music to my ears, and immediately set my mind at ease. He was safe, it was all in good fun, and the other children treated him just the same. “I don’t have enough time for those games anyways. There’s always something else to do. The Queen insisted I make friends with everyone in the palace, so I’m always being dragged around place to place. The guards like me a lot. They joke around in ways I don’t understand, but they’re still kind.” He pressed a thumb into my hand. “They wanted me to come on one of their patrols. Through the city.” 

I paused, looking at him for a moment with a strained smile. “But the Queen wouldn’t let you, right?” 

“The Queen suggested it too. That’s why I wanted to come and speak to you.” He sheepishly pressed his face into my shoulder. “I wanted to tell you that I was going to go tomorrow. Through the city.” 

I didn’t feel his hand anymore, even when he held it as tight as he could. 

“You can’t.” 

“Margy,” he began gently, “It’s alright. I’ll be safe, really I will. I’ll be surrounded by guards, and the Queen has even given me one of her Cards too, a numbered elite, he’ll keep me extra safe –“ 

“You can’t go.” 

“Margy, please, I thought perhaps I could bring something back for you. A toy, or maybe a pet. They have all sorts of things down there. And next time maybe I could convince them to bring you too. We could go places together. And we’d be safe the whole time.” 

“Rettah,” I whimpered. “Please.” 

“What’s wrong, Margy?” He held my arms, curling up in my lap and looking as honestly confused as he could. And he was. He was earnest, and honest, and sweet, and he had no idea what could be out there. He honestly believed that everything would be alright, that the world was fine and all he’d have to think about was what to bring back to me. That innocence in his face was so hopeful. And I couldn’t make him stay. I pressed my face into his shoulder. 

“Rettah, did you learn anything about Wonderland from your tutors about what’s out there?” I whispered. “Why do you think…” I trailed off, and bit my tongue. Suddenly I didn’t know whether to tell him. He was so happy. He loved it all. “Why do you think I stay in my room?” I muttered, just as he placed a hand on my head and began to stroke my hair. 

“Because you’re afraid of the Queen? I don’t know, but I know you’re not happy. But the Capital is a nice place. There’s festivals, and delicious food, and drink, and everything is so colorful and bright. There’s music, and stories, and pretty clothes, and so many different things to do. Hundreds of stores on every street, different districts. A whole district, just for alcohol, Margy! When I’m older, I want to go there with the guards, and we’ll have a wonderful time. But it’s not bad.” 

“And the slaves?” 

“The… You mean the servants?” 

“They’re slaves, Rettah.” I gripped his shoulder, and pulled myself out of the hair that smelled so much like Rettah and father all rolled into one. “Henrietta, Danielle, they’re slaves. The cooks that make your food. The stable hands that have the horses always at the ready. The children that work in the gardens with their parents. And they’re the ones who have good lives. They’re lucky. What about the ones down there? What about the ones that don’t have royalty looking after them? The ones owned by the nobles that aren’t rich and powerful, and don’t care about appearances, what about them?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Margy,” he said, as politely as he could. “I know there are indentured servants, but they’re not unhappy, and that’s just the way things are. That’s the way that the world works. The Queen said she made rulings that could never be overturned. So she’s tried to make everyone’s lives as comfortable as possible. And I see it too. I know everyone here is happy. Everyone here is okay, they’re content, and I have parties with them all the time, and sometimes my mouth hurts from smiling and laughing. But… Not you.” 

I couldn’t speak. 

“And I don’t think it’s any different in the Capital,” he continued. “Everyone is the same there, the Queen said. The world isn’t as bad as you think it might be. Father was a deserter, and mother led him down the wrong path, and the world to them was worse for it. They might have filled your mind with ideas of evil and wrongdoing, but this world isn’t like that. This world is free, and beautiful, and full of having fun and enjoying yourself. You can’t seem to do that, and it’s because of your past. I think.” He said my face and he made a soft, pained noise as he pressed closer. “I love you, Margy, please don’t cry. I’m sorry… The Queen told me of the truth of their departure, and I wanted you know that I don’t blame you for thinking the way you do. I know it’s hard. You did so much for me, and I can never repay you for it. You kept me alive when father left us. You kept me alive up until the very end, doing everything you could for me. And you loved me, you gave me something to look forward to every day.” He held me as tight as he could, and even he was starting to sniffle. “But sometimes I feel like I’ve lost you, in this room. You’re not happy, and I don’t know what to do about it. I can’t always be there for you, no matter how hard I try everyone seems to want me for something.” 

“Rettah,” I croaked. 

“Maybe, if you came with me next time to the city, you could see it too. I’ll go and I’ll scout out the city and tell you there’s nothing to worry about in the Capital. And we can spend time in the shopping districts with pocket change from the Queen and find trinkets from the other continent. And eat spiced food, the meats you love so much. I’ll tell you as soon as I return tomorrow, I’ll tell you all about everything I’ve seen, and then you’ll feel better.” He blinked up at me, and I tried to smile. I so desperately wanted to, but it was like pulling teeth just to hold that grimace. 

“I can’t keep you safe out there.” 

“I will have guards with me at all times,” he pressed. “And then, after I come back, and I tell you about everything, I’ll even buy a servant down there. A girl, she could pass notes between us, so you’d never be alone!” My heart dropped. “She could take down notes and then go to you and tell you all about what’s going on with my day. I was thinking about this before but all the servants I wanted to send kept getting needed by the Queen. So I thought if I had my very own servant, then we could share her between us.” 

“A slave. You’d buy a slave.” 

“She’s not a slave, Margy!” He cried. “She’d be a servant. And we’d treat her well. You’d treat her nicely, right?” 

I choked back a sob, closed my eyes, and held him. When he realized I wasn’t about to say anything, he hugged me back. The boy sighed softly, but he humored me a little longer. We held each other like we had so many years ago, and he listened to my heart beat. I listened to his. It was so calm, slow, and strong. 

“I don’t understand why you’re so sad all the time,” he murmured by my ear. “I just want you to be happy.” 

“I just want you to be happy,” I said. 

“But you shouldn’t do that, if it hurts, Margy.” He laughed softly. “I remember how you’d burn yourself on pots and not even notice. You never seemed to mind blisters, or when you sprained your ankle. But now you’re crying like all of that pain has caught up to you. You never seem to stop crying, like you’ve sprung a leak.” He gently wiped my eyes, then pulled away to pet my hair. That boyish smile must have charmed countless girls. “I’ll be alright,” he said. “I’ll be back in just a few hours. And I’ll be right back by your side. Maybe I’ll even have more time to spend with you. I want to try. I could convince the Queen, perhaps.” 

This time, my smile was real.

“You grew up into a wonderful young man, you know. Mother would be proud.” 

“I hope I make you proud,” he said. “That’s who I’m aiming to be like.” 

We held each other close an hour after that. Minute after minute ticked by, another moment less I had with him. He’d have to leave again, as soon as they knew he wasn’t in bed. But until that happened, I had him with me, both of us staring up at the ceiling, talking and holding each other with stupid smiles on our faces. I had him in my arms, a gangly teen that had lost all of that sweet adorable childishness. But he was still my Rettah, my little brother, and he never stopped being that. And I was still his older sister. We could still talk about everything that flitted through our minds like it was the most important thing in the world, chuckling to ourselves about jokes so stupid we couldn’t believe they made us laugh. 

Sylvia opened the door when the candle died out. I was the only one awake. I watched her as she opened the wooden door, pause to see Rettah nestled in the crook of my neck, smile that sad smile of hers, and whisper to me. 

“He’ll have to go back to his room, before the Queen finds out.”

“Just a little longer?” 

“You don’t want to defy the Queen, dear.” 

I stared up at the ceiling a moment longer, then nodded. 

Sylvia took my sleeping brother in her arms after turning out the candle, and I was left with only the scent of Rettah on my blankets. 

The last of my toys were put away. 

The next day, I watched the procession that led Rettah out of the castle and into the Capital. It was no large event, he walked on his own two feet surrounded by a small troop officers with a smile on his face and an innocent glimmer in his precious green eyes. I stood by the entrance of the Palace and ignore Sylvia’s repeated attempts to get me to tutoring. None of it mattered today, when Rettah could be in trouble at any moment. 

He moved past those gates, out of my reach, and my chest grew tight. Sylvia drew me close, pet my hair, and smiled softly. 

“You don’t need to cry, dear, Rettah will be back soon enough. He’ll be absolutely fine. He’s a well bred Queen noble, his status is of the highest degree. He has the Queen’s favor, not many can claim that title.” 

“I don’t care, and I’m sure someone out there doesn’t either.” I muttered. Her hands enveloped me in an all encompassing hug, and I didn’t fight her when she brought me into the palace proper. 

That day I wasn’t paying attention to problems with the balancing of my account books. This tutor seemed to love raising his voice to me with every chance he got, but I’d long since lost the fear of my younger self. I was taller than him, stronger than him, and when I glared at him in the eye, he backed down and began to quietly explain my problems. 

“What’s the point of this?” I said suddenly, when he was in the midst of teaching a new concept I hadn’t bothered to catch. I sat up in my chair, glaring at the man.

“Excuse me?” 

“The Queen would never make me Hand. She’s not interested in putting me in a position of power after she separated me from my brother. So what is the point of this? To tie my hands up so there’s never a chance that I’ll ever be able to see him? Is that what she wants?” 

“I don’t understand, miss, your brother?” The tutor was astounded.

“Rettah, he’s going to be Hand. I don’t know how exactly, he’s too kind to see the world outside and not see it for what it is. But she seems so convinced. Probably wanting to fuck him when he’s older or something.” I wrinkled my nose and pushed the papers back. Sylvia would probably be called in a few minutes later to take care of my little outburst, but I didn’t want to work. I couldn’t. “She’s forcing us apart, I can feel it. I can see it. It’s so easy to catch. Like she wants me to see…” I shook my head. Trying to understand the logic of the Queen was an impossible task. 

“We should be working on the problems you had in your accounting, today,” the tutor began hesitantly. I took one last look at his ruddy red hair tucked back in a ponytail and the glasses that were thick as an inch, and I left the table. My skirts swished behind me as I walked, my shoes clopping against the hardwood flooring. He stood up with a shriek from his chair, but he couldn’t think of anything to say before I left. 

I turned a corner toward the throne room, when I heard a piece of a conversation. 

“He’s back!” 

“Really? What were they saying, yellow eyes?” 

“Yellow eyes, what do you think that means?” 

“A trick of the light, perhaps.” 

“There can’t be magic in the Capital, for God’s sake!”

“Rettah’s back?” 

I took off running. 

I could have heard Sylvia among the throng of people I passed by on my way to the front courtyard. I could have heard the Queen herself and I wouldn’t have stopped. I clutched at my heart, my lungs breathing in deep with every step, unused to running from so many days in my room. But I couldn’t stop. A weaker man would have fallen but I couldn’t. My lungs should have been burning. I should have felt that pain. But I couldn’t afford to stop when Rettah was back and I had to make sure he was alright. 

The doors to the palace were opened to me to reveal the procession’s return. The guards stood on either side of the boy in the crinkled top hat. A man tattooed with the elaborate number seven on both sides of his face stood at the boy’s right, his sword sheathed but his hand on the hilt. The Card chatted amiably with the boy, a wide grin on latter’s face. 

I ran to him. I ran faster than I ever had before. I ran to Rettah to make sure he was alright. Because I loved him. Because he was still smiling and he must have been okay and I couldn’t take it anymore. We had to get out of this palace because this world was cruel and I couldn’t stand to stay here. I just wanted him to be alright. What was the point of staying here? What were we afraid of? What was there to wait for? 

The Card tightened the grip on his sword when I rushed up to the boy, unable to catch my breath. 

“Rettah- what happened?” I huffed, and gently took his hand. “Are you alright?” 

“Should I get rid of her for you, sir?” The Card asked with a self-righteous smirk in his voice. The other guards had their weapons at the ready. I hadn’t noticed until then just how surrounded I was. 

The boy raised his head to me, and his yellow eyes shone like stars. His nose wrinkled, his grin fell to a disbelieving smirk. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

“What are you –“

He slapped me. I went barrelling over in the middle of the courtyard, falling hard on my side. I hadn’t realized how unstable I was from the run, but then I was suddenly amongst the grass staring at a caterpillar making its way through the dirt. I turned to stare up at the boy. Golden eyes watching me like a snake. 

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but I’m not your bloody bleeding heart of a brother anymore.” He frowned. “And I picked the name Asentual. It’s so much more original than Rettah, don’t you think? The guards all agree. As much I love the father that abandoned me ages ago, his imagination is lacking.” He spat at the ground next to my foot. “Now don’t you ever touch me like that again, or I’ll give you worse than a slap.” 

“Sir,” the Card chuckled. His hand moved from the hilt of his sword to around the hatter’s shoulder to guide him towards the doors to the palace. “Hate to break this up, but I believe the Queen’s waiting for you. Shall we?” 

“Of course,” he said. “Can’t have her Majesty waiting. Call my sister’s handler for her, will you? I hate to leave an animal unattended like this.” He stepped on my skirt as he passed me. There were others watching, staring at me, soft whispers flittering between them. 

And then they left, alongside the hatter, their eyes looking back at the spectacle that had long since subsided. 

I stared at that caterpillar a little longer. 

The courtyard grew empty, and I was left. Alone, in the middle of the courtyard surrounded by roses red and white, grass carefully trimmed, the sound of horses whinnying in the far off distance of the stables. The faint murmur of the city drew up from below. 

Footsteps drew near to me. A hand held itself out to me, old and womanly. 

“Dear, you can’t be on the ground like this,” Sylvia said, so tenderly. “Are you alright?” 

I took a hand, and stood up, slowly. I was taller than her by several inches. She was old, gnarled, and small. I stared past her. 

“Dear…” Sylvia murmured. “What happened? Where’s Rettah, how was his trip, did you see him?” As she spoke, she led me to the jaws of the castle, and was the guide that brought me back to my room. She asked countless questions that I knew, on some level, were there. But I didn’t speak. I said nothing. My jaw was set, the thin line of my lips cracked and dry. And Sylvia didn’t push. She sat me down on the bed, called for food, and brushed my hair with the practiced grace of a mother. 

The food was brought, but I didn’t look at it. The smell of salted meat and vegetables nauseated me. The dish of steak, sautéed onions, and potatoes sat at the edge of the bed with the steak knife and fork placed carefully to the side, but even the serving girl took one look at me, and gave Sylvia a questioning glance. But the woman saved her off, placing the brush down beside me and leaning forward on the bed to place a hand around my shoulder. 

“Margret, would you like to talk about it?” She asked. The hands that held me close for so many years rubbed my shoulder like it always did. I expected a blanket around my shoulders any minute. 

It was a nothing more than a plaster to a wound. 

I tried to open my mouth. The breath was a rasp. 

“He’s gone.”

“Who’s gone, dear?” 

“Rettah.” 

“But he just came back from his trip, didn’t he? Couldn’t you go back and see him?” 

She didn’t know. “No. I can’t go back. He’s gone.” In the corner of the room, there were a few dust motes dancing in the light of the sunny afternoon. They waltzed through the room, never settling, never content. 

My hands were numb. Something was terribly wrong. I couldn’t seem to find myself. 

“I’m sure that’s not true. It was a misunderstanding, perhaps.” 

“Did you see?” I looked at her. She didn’t seem real. 

“I…” She faltered. “I saw the conflict, I thought perhaps something had happened, but Rettah is still Rettah, isn’t he?” Like Rettah was capable of hitting someone. Like Rettah would ever harm me. Like Rettah would ever insult me. Like Rettah would ever have the eyes of a monster, looking down upon me like I was some kind of creature.

I was so much taller than her. 

“Why do you try, Sylvia?” I tried to clear my throat.

“What?” 

“Why do you keep trying? Why stay a slave? Why not run?” 

Silvia tensed. Her gnarled, old hands gripped me tighter. There was enough strength left in them for a few more years. But that was all. “Margret, we shouldn’t be talking about this.” 

“Why not? Why can’t I talk about slavery? It’s everywhere, isn’t it? We use them for everything. You don’t have a choice, you have to take care of me.”

“I do it because I want to, Margret. I could have asked to be reassigned.” 

“Stop it!” I coughed. The world twisted around. “You know that’s not true, maybe you wouldn’t have to but then someone else would! What about the ones used for sex, the entertainment girls? Do they have a say? Does anyone have the ability to leave? To quit their jobs, to get out from under the foot of the Queen?” 

“Margret, you’re working yourself up, take a breath.” 

“Then let’s not talk about slavery,” I grimaced. “What about the sexual abuse I know that nearly every child suffers around here? I was very nearly one of them, you saved me but I know there are children that aren’t as lucky. I’ve seen them. I know that dead look well. Or even just the rape, those noble women who go on being played with as the men like? There are no laws! Anything could happen to them, they’d take it to the Queen, and she’d LAUGH.” 

“Margret!” 

“My mother was a sex slave, did you know? My mother and father left because of all of this. They knew they couldn’t survive there. My mother would have died. I wouldn’t have been born. They gave us freedom and happiness that I’ve never once felt here.” 

“Not even with me?” 

I faltered. “No… Stop that. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to hide behind a few good moments and pretend that it’s anywhere close to the same. You’re still blind and accepting, just like all the others.” I moved away from the woman with a withering glare. “You already know everything about this world, what it means for humans like you, and you sit here quietly and accept it. You won’t even talk to me about it. I’ve had to live with it in my head, unable to say a word so I can keep everyone happy.” My throat tightened. “Because… Because of Rettah. There’s… Bloody hell, why can’t I do anything?” I gripped my hair, and the strange flicker of red played in the corner of my eye with the dust motes. My eyes burned. The world was spinning faster and faster. “Why can’t I say a word? Why can’t I address what’s going on right in front of us?” 

“Margret.” She stood up. “You should go to sleep.” 

I watched her go with wide eyes. My grip tightened on my scalp. There was no pain from ripping my own hair out. Just a tugging sensation. “You’re just going to leave? Again?”

“You’re not in any state to have a discussion.” She opened her mouth to say more, and that haze of red grew. She was leaving. I was losing her too. She was going. I was going to live alone for the rest of my life, apart from a world that didn’t want me. I could almost laugh.

I grabbed her wrist and threw her back down onto the bed. I felt the crack in her hand, heard the scream from the brittle bone breaking so easily, and I swallowed my disgust and fear. I had to know. I had to hear an answer. I had to hear that she saw it too, that I wasn’t crazy, that the world was, and I was perfectly sane.

There was fear in her eyes when I approached her, climbing over the bed to tower over her with unfamiliar, alien posture. She was actually seeing something real, for once. Maybe I was, too. 

“Do you see it, Sylvie?” 

“Margret, please-” She held her hands in front of her, the wrist broken at a wrong angle, and she cried. She was scared now. She was afraid of the truth. Of me. “Just calm down, dear! I- I promise, I see! I see what you’re seeing! Just let me go, and we’ll have a chat, alright?” 

“You don’t see anything. All you see is what’s put in front of you, the next order, the next anything.” I couldn’t hold back tears. My body shuddered, and I faltered. What was I doing? What was I saying? “I don’t… I’m so lost. I don’t know where I am anymore. He’s gone. What do I do now? What have I to do, when there’s no one left? Mother… Father… And now him. All I ever cared about.” The tears wouldn’t stop falling now. Sylvia stared up from below, the fear coming off her in waves. I was scared too. 

“Margret…” She tried to say, but I couldn’t hear her. Everything was coming from far away in the bottom of a well, and all I could see was her fear. Cowardice. I was a coward too. I’d never tried to do anything, I’d sat here in this bloody room and let the Queen go with the promises of happiness until it was too late. I hadn’t meant to, but I’d trusted her. I thought I could believe the beautiful lie that Rettah and I might one day stay together, forever.

All this servant, this slave could see was a monster. Some creature that felt numb to the pains of the world, that couldn’t seem to hurt. A monster that had punched a girl to near death. That’s all any of them ever saw. That’s all they would ever see. Even the one that was once Rettah. A monster didn’t deserve happiness. 

I held my face, shaking, and laughed. I screamed, and I laughed, and I couldn’t stop laughing in the face of my handler that had kept me chained for so long, had always kept me to my bed, had fed and tamed me and made me a good little lion that would never bite the hand that fed them. 

Sylvia cried. I grabbed her by the throat, and she blindly grabbed for my hands that were so young and strong and scarred and unfeeling. It was hard to see her through the sheen of tears that wouldn’t stop, through the laughing and screaming as my throat went hoarse. But she was somewhere there, a moving, breathing thing beneath me not much different than an old bleating goat I needed to kill for meat.

“I’m just an animal,” I said to her. “Aren’t I? That’s all I’ve ever been. To everyone. Something to poke and prod at.” 

“Margret-“ she choked. “Please… Calm down… Just… think about this.” 

“I’ve never thought so clearly,” I laughed, and wiped my eyes with my free hand. I held my forehead in my hand, and stared at down at myself. Covered in crisscrossed, marred skin from all the mistakes I’d made, feeling nothing, and yet I’d never been in so much pain. “I’ve never… I’ve never seen the world so clearly. This world… It’s always been broken, hasn’t it? All I’ve ever done, all I’ve ever tried to do, to make nice, to make friends, it led with his death. And he’s dead. He’d never hit me. But he did. Some parasite stole his name! But he’s been dead, from the very beginning I suppose. HA! He’s always been dead to me. Ever since the Queen got his hands on him, and I did nothing to stop it. Because I couldn’t. The world isn’t meant to make me happy. It’s meant to take everything away.” I grabbed my head until the blood began to fall, then I grabbed the steak knife. Sylvia’s face was turning grey. She struggled with her good hand, she held my shoulder, pushed at me, desperately gasped for air she didn’t have, and cried. 

“Sylvie, don’t you see?” I asked her. “Don’t you see the answer here?” 

She mouthed my name. 

“The answer is to break. To be mad. That’s the only way to live in this world. That’s the only way I can. All I can do is look at this, and laugh. All I can do is… Is…” I opened my mouth to speak again, and I could only cry. 

Sylvia grabbed the arm that held the knife when I put it to her throat. 

“I love you,” she gasped. “I love you, Margret. You don’t have to…. Do this… Calm down….” 

I laughed away the tears, and sliced open her neck just like a goat, with all the strength of a body that felt nothing. 

She didn’t die at first. She struggled, and I choked her, and I cried, and I laughed, and I held her down at the blood poured and spurted from the wound. It sprayed me, drenched me in the thick fluid that turned darker as the minutes ticked back and forth. And then she stopped moving, and she stared up at the ceiling, and I stared back at her. The tips of my fingertips listlessly followed the lines over her jaw, her cheek, the eyebrows that seemed more relaxed than ever before. Her eyes faded to nothing, and she stared up at the ceiling at the big wide sky hidden behind the cage I lived in. 

I hadn’t moved from her, that whole time. I sat over that body, watched it convulse, with that same red haze I’d grown to fear. And it was only now that I realized how much I loved it. How much I could show people if they refused to see. It was only when they were afraid, that they saw the truth. Even as I ran to the bathroom with a scream at the edge of my tongue, I could think that. I could believe. I could hold onto something real, when the rest of the world wasn’t. I washed off the blood I could, staring at myself in the mirror and seeing a stranger looking back at me. A monster that had killed my last ally. My only friend. My own mother. I killed her. 

I killed her. 

I threw up into the sink, wiped it off my mouth, and wailed. 

There were no answers, anymore. There was no guideline. There was Sylvie, on a bed drenched in blood, and me, the murderer, staring in the mirror. 

You don’t kill. You never kill. That was the one law. The one taboo. The one thing you can’t do. The one thing that you could ever possibly be executed for. I was going to die for what I’d done. 

I laughed in the mirror. I had nothing left to live for anymore. But then there was always spite. The spite that the Queen wouldn’t be able to have me. She wouldn’t be able to control a rabid animal breaking out of it’s cage and biting everything within arm’s reach.

I was astonished how robotically I could change my clothes. How I could run from that room, with nothing more than a sack of food, and go to the only other person who could ever possibly understand. I was only of half a mind. 

Sigil sat in her room, staring at the window that showed the beautiful world outside, and played with the knife she’d gotten from her father. It sliced up her fingers so easily, but she never stopped practicing. She’d gotten better, and most of the cuts were old. But the table she sat by was still soaked with a thin coating of blood. 

She took one look at me, and she smiled. 

“What did you do?” 

“I’m leaving.” My voice wasn’t my own. “Far, far away.” 

“Did you want to kill me first, too?” 

“What?” 

“There’s blood on your cheek.” 

“Oh.” I wiped it off, and stared at it on my hand. I tried not to laugh, but the giggles still somehow popped up to the surface. My body fell against the doorframe. Sigil placed the knife down to pick me up, a faint smile drawing her snake mouth apart. 

“What did you do?” 

“I killed a servant.”

“Where is she?” 

“On my bed.” 

“Is someone planning to check up on you?” 

“To take the dinner away.” I could dimly remember the food I’d turned over onto the sheets already stained with red. My stomach rumbled. I started to cry. 

Sigil slapped me. 

“Stop that. You’re not solving anything by crying.” I snapped at her hand, and she pulled me up by my hair until I was towering over her. “You’re going to need to run.” 

“I’m HUNGRY, Sylvia.” I couldn’t seem to hold myself up. I went falling back against the girl. “Fetch me food.” 

“You’re far gone, Margret,” she chuckled. “It’s Sigil, love.” 

“Where should I go?” I finally placed the pieces of conversation together in my head. There was a tumor in the midst of my memories, playing with the nerve endings of thoughts and dreams. The bulging, beating thing broke down and worried away at the strings, until there was nothing more than a smudge in front of me, talking like she had all the answers. 

“Anywhere but here, really.” She looked at me with a discerning smile. It wasn’t a happy smile. “As long as you stay away.” 

“I was never going to be Hand!” I laughed. “You think the Queen would make me Hand? Me? Do you want me to kill you?”

“Not anymore, you’re not.” She turned around toward her wardrobe, and I took a few stumbling steps towards her with my hands outstretched as a child blindly grabbing for their mother. 

My mothers were dead. 

“I think I have something for you, if you’d like.” 

“You’re one of them.” She turned around to see me stumbling back onto my knees. 

“One of what?” 

“I should kill you.” 

“I’d tell you to snap out of it, but then you’d start crying again. Here,” she threw something black at me. It landed on my back, and I snatched it off, only to furrow my brows when I realized it was a cloak. 

“What is it?” I held it up in wonder. My grin widened. I felt like my eyes would bulge out of my skull. 

“Safety. It won’t work here, but you leave the castle, and you’ll never be found. And you can do whatever you like. I’d tell you not to bite the hand that feeds you, but then you just did, didn’t you?” She knelt down in front of me, and pet my hair. I glared up at her, those fangs, those bright green eyes, the lank black and red hair she kept lose and slimy. 

Monster. Those eyes were dead. The smile wasn’t real. She lovingly pet my hair, and I knew it was a lie. 

“I want to kill them all, Sylvia.” 

“Sigil.” 

“I want to kill them.” I reached out for her neck, and she swatted it away. “I want them to suffer. I want them dead.” She wiped my tears away with a finger, pulled my hands down in hers, then kissed me. 

Her lips tasted sweet, this time. Her eyes closed, but I stared at her, unable to speak with her mouth trapped around mine. I thought I was strong, but she held down my arms like they were nothing. Her body drifted closer, and then she was pressed up against me with her face pressed into my neck, her breath in puffs. 

“Margy, you’re such a bloody mess,” she chuckled. “God, but I love it.” 

“I hate you,” I said. Staring at the corner of her closet, I could see the edge of something jagged and metal. I wanted it. It was calling to me. I could feel it in my soul. It wanted me. 

“Sweet one, of course you do. I’m your enemy. Don’t worry, I want to kill you too. We will, perhaps. Another day.” 

“I want that.” 

She turned her head to see where I was looking, and she grinned.

“Do you hear it too?” 

“Yes. I want it.”

She stood up, walked to the blade, and picked it up in her fingers almost tenderly. It was a jagged, sickly purple dagger, the tip lopsided and wrong. It couldn’t have been very strong, but it was wickedly sharp. She pricked her finger on the edge as she tested it, then threw it in front of me with the scabbard. 

“Then take it. Take it, and leave me to be the Hand. Do what you like, ruin yourself in the Capital like everyone else. But don’t come back. They’ll execute you the moment they find you. You’ve given the Queen the best excuse.” She smirked, slinking down to her knees to watch me. “And I wonder if perhaps this is the very thing she wanted.” 

I wasn’t listening to her. I was snatching the blade up, watching the mesmerizing color that tinged the deepest, most grotesque lavender in the right light. It was a beautiful monster, prettier than anything I’d ever seen before. Cutting someone up with this would render them nothing but bloody flesh and bone. I sheathed it, then stumbled for the window. 

“Margy dear, what are you doing?”

“Leaving.” Sigil didn’t try to stop me. Her smile widened when I pulled back my fist, and punched the glass. 

Shards of glass littered the room, scattering across the floor up to Sigil’s feet. She watched them with a look of amusement, then cast her eyes over to my hand. The bloody fist was ripped to shreds. I stared at it for a moment, then my mouth widened into the biggest grin of this whole day. 

“It’s beautiful,” I said. 

“You’re so vulgar, Margy.” She laughed, and kept laughing when I threw myself out the second story window.


	16. Chapter 16

QUILL

The way she sat by the window, watching the outside world go by, the sun hitting her hair that fell in long, luxurious curls, it made her look almost godly. A soft face, with a gentle slope of a nose, cheeks rounded, thin shoulders. Her body crouched like a cat by the glass, in that reading nook of wood between the wall, layered with the cushions she couldn’t tear out. She barely filled that dress so thin as she was, the sickly yellow making the rest of her look almost like a Lord noble. If it weren’t for her eyes, her hair, she might have been one. Now that she’d eaten more, washed up, she was beautiful. 

I couldn’t help but stare. 

She turned to me, smiled that soft, nervous smile of hers, and ducked her head. 

“What are you looking at?” 

“Sorry,” I said quickly, and turned away to focus on the tutors’ materials.

I hadn’t seen the man in a month. Not since I’d looked him in the eye and told him that the next time he tried something with me, I’d bite off his cock and swallow it. It was funny, how easy that came. Even as I was shaking, even as I felt like my throat would close up. I held my gaze with that man, alone in that hallway before class, Lod already inside, and dared him to say a word. Servants passed by, and I didn’t move more than a hair’s breadth from that position, my head held high with him backed into the wall until there was little more than an inch between us. I dared him to question me. I dared him to do anything, to try to push back. He looked into my eyes, and he knew what he saw. I could feel it too, that familiar commanding tone that my father had made his own. But I could still see the cowardice in the man’s face as he turned away and gave me the textbook he’d held so defensively in his hands. He hid behind his glasses, murmured an assent that he had somewhere to be, and left down the hall with his tail between his legs. There were a few whispers, stares I’d grown used to, but this time I turned. I glared at them. I waited for them to bow their heads and continue on. And then I gripped that textbook in my arms, and left. That was several textbooks ago. 

These days I was focused on the ancient history of Wonderland. I peered over the indecipherable poem of the Jabberwocky and tried to parse that with a translation from a sheaf of paper that seemed half-assed at best. Some scribe had never bothered to try translating this from the absolute madness it used to be. I couldn’t tell if the entire thing was meant to be a metaphor, or a description of events, but regardless of the answer, it wasn’t useful. It begged the question of if I’d be better off working through the recordings of Hand sessions in the past years for examples of the work I might be doing if my father ever keeled over. It did however, mean looking at his name, and I did prefer not having to think about the reason I barred my door at night as much as possible. “I was just wondering what you were thinking about,” I finally said, more to myself than her. I narrowed my eyes at a depiction of the Jabberwocky, then made a face and pushed the entire thing away.

“Your cousins.”

I paused. 

“Oh?” I asked hesitantly. 

“You talk about them.” 

“Well, yes. We did spend a lot of time with each other.” 

“Did. Not anymore.” She tilted her head over to look at me, her brown eyes so soft and curious. My face heated. “Why?” 

“Because. That’s… The past, now.” I stood from the arm chair, pushed the coffee table out of the way, and walked slowly towards Skylar. Taking careful effort not to make any sudden movements, she still flinched when I approached. I crouched low, onto my knees, and let her sit towering above me as I hesitantly reached for her hand. I didn’t take it. She was the one that held it when I offered. They were calloused, thin, and covered in thin crisscrossing scars. “They have their own lives. Lod has his tutoring, and that’s when he’s not he’s running about the kitchens. And Jillian has her own work too, I’m sure. She’s to be Left Hand soon enough. The current Hand is getting older, she’ll have to be taking up the position.” 

“Don’t you care about them?” 

“Of course I do, but… They… They…” I closed my mouth, and thoughtfully rubbed a finger into her palm. “You’ve been here a month, now.” 

“A month and two days,” she said with a smile. 

“A month of recovery.” I smiled back. “And a month I needed to be there for you, and you alone. And I’m happy you’re feeling better. We made this place our own. We’re safe here. And you didn’t see what it was, before.”

“Before,” she echoed. 

“In a lot of ways, you were the one that made me safe. You gave me a reason to stay away. My cousins – they tried, we all spent so much time trying and we were helpless. Before, I couldn’t…” 

“Before, when they hurt you.” 

“Yes… It was… Worse, than hurting, in some ways.” I let go of her hand. 

She pursed her lips, then tugged me up with her arm. I moved with her, tentatively obedient as she pulled me closer. She led me to her lap, against her chest, and then the two of us were on each other, basking in the sunlight. She ran a hand through my hair, and I struggled to breathe. It had been a month, a full month since release, and now my face was pressed up against a tit and I could do little more than purr as she enjoyed my company. She was warm, sweet, gentle, and smelled like roses.

I tried to keep my groin angled away from her leg. 

“You didn’t tell me how they hurt you,” she said. 

“You didn’t tell me how they hurt you either, and I don’t want you to think you have to tell me.” I said. “Do you truly want to know about me?” 

“No,” she said. Her grip on me tightened. “I don’t think so. But when I imagine it, it… Hurts.”

My heart jumped. 

“I hate to think of what they did to you,” she continued. She smiled faintly. “This is such a life you lead, Quill, full of people and stories and yet you spend all your time here, with me. We never leave. You never want to, and we never see any of the people that are supposed to be in your life. You care about your cousins, but I’ve never seen them, not since the day you brought me out of there. So many questions I have, but I’m afraid to hurt you.”

“I’m not fragile,” I urged, struggling to find a more comfortable position that wouldn’t place my hardon against her. “I could answer any questions you have.” 

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you. You never question me. All you’ve done is feed, clothe and clean me. And given me refuge. And…” She looked at my groin, then looked away. I flushed as I struggled back, but she gripped my wrist. “And left me alone,” she finished.

“Sorry.” 

“No, it’s alright.” She tucked a curl behind her ear, and pulled me back against her. Shoulder to shoulder, she then lay her head against my chest and listened to the beat of my heart. I couldn’t hide that it was going twice its usual rate, but then rarely could I hide anything from her. “You never touch me, Quill.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you. You’re still healing. And I…” 

“I know.” She smiled. “I’m glad. I don’t want to be touched.” 

My shoulders sagged. “I won’t let anyone go near you. You can stay here, if you like.” 

“Thank you.” She slowly dropped her smile and turned back to the window. Outside, the wind picked up, playing with the leaves that had turned gold and red. A funnel of them blew up into the air, twisting around what surely smelled like must and dirt. “So, you loved your cousins?” 

“Of course. More than anything.” 

“But you gave them up for me.” 

I bit my lip. “I… For safety, too. You needed care.” 

“I wasn’t dying.” 

“I shouldn’t have stayed with them. Here is safe.” 

“You were hurt because of them?” 

“It’s complicated.” 

“The world is complicated.” 

“I…” I bit my lip, and awkwardly played with the cuffs of my blouse. “I don’t think you’re understanding it quite right.” 

“Then tell me.” 

I cleared my throat. “They were… We were… Together. In the beginning. Romantically. And it was… that was the ways things were, until everything went wrong. And now I’m afraid to see them. I don’t wish them any ill will, but I…” My mind drifted away.

“Incest?” 

“I… Suppose.” 

“You fucked your cousins?” She asked incredulously. 

I flinched. “Yes.” 

She regarded my fearful gaze, then turned back to the window, and nudged herself a little closer to me. 

“They did it in the Capital too,” she murmured. “It’s nothing new.” 

“Seriously?” I gawked. “I thought… I thought it was wrong.” 

“It IS wrong,” she said, her tone quite adamant. But she squeezed my hand. “But I know you don’t mean it that way. You’re just a noble. All you nobles have such strange, different ideas of right and wrong. They have the chance to change what’s good and evil, because they control everything. So the rest of us have to watch and not say a word. But it’s still evil, even if they call it good. That’s how it is, men lying with men, with animals, with children.” 

“Yeah,” I said hesitantly. 

“So that’s why you won’t see them anymore, then? Because you know it’s wrong?” 

“What? No- I- my… My father found out, long before. And now being with them is dangerous.” As soon as I said it, it became real. I hadn’t thought, I hadn’t realized, but then I could see it. And it seemed like the most logical step in the world. I couldn’t blame them, I could never, I was the one that had started it, but I couldn’t deny what their relations had caused me.

“Quill?”

My throat tightened. “The more I am with them, the more danger that comes with it. I didn’t know that before – I didn’t think. But then I met you. I have you. You’re… like camouflage.” I bit my lip. Even after the countless reassurances from her, it still felt wrong. “People hear I have someone, human, and they think that I’m just like them. Like I use you, their depraved minds can justify, think of anything.” I grit my teeth. “As selfish as that sounds.” 

“I know.” She patted my hand, and the anxiety melted away. “What happened when your father found out? Try to separate you three? Did he beat you?” 

I’d never told her. And now the words were at the tip of my mouth, about to be released, and it was a struggle to maintain myself. Her eyes were so calm, so forgiving. Surely, she’d understand.

“He fucked me.” 

She went quiet, then she turned away, her hand resting in mine, her small body tense and curled in upon itself. I turned away too, looking for a distraction, my room, the one I’d taken as soon as I could move further away from my father. The barren, lackluster walls were a welcome calm from all the yellow. The bookcases were filled with what I could pilfer from the library, managed as much as I could. It still left much to be desired, books strewn everywhere for when I needed some cross reference or suddenly gained a thought. The coffee table too, was filled with books, the large school text dwarfing all the others. 

The large four-poster bed still had a line of pillows dividing the two sides in half. I’d spent the first week on the floor before Skylar said she’d had enough of it, and I wasn’t about to argue with her. 

The entire place smelled like Skylar. Like us. No one came here, no one but us and the servants who brought us towels, food, whatever we asked. A small, quiet little place for the two of us to stay. And learn. And wait. It was warm, and it was calm. We didn’t need to leave when we were here.

I could remember the looks on my cousins faces when I’d returned with Skylar. Their grins, those hopeful looks. The way I’d not done much more than grimace and ask to be left alone, that should have hurt them. But they just let me go. 

“He raped you?” She finally asked. 

“Not at first. But then it got worse. And then others heard about it, and they did the same. And then I was… For the general public. That was when my father struck. He did what he wanted. And so did every other man that thought it fun. Some kind of entertainment. Like you were saying. They thought that they could change the rules to be what they wanted. I was a way for them to have fun. And it seemed like everyone else was on the same track of mind. It was like I was the mad one in a world that made sense to everyone but me. I thought… I thought I was going to lose myself. Even with my cousins – they were the ones to help in the end, but even them… We were helpless. All of us. Children. Even now, that’s all I am. And there’s a door to separate us from the rest of the world but…” I closed my eyes. “It’s just a door.” And what I’d said to the tutor was an unattainable threat. 

Skylar squeezed my hand. Her hair was so soft. “I’m sorry.” 

“Me too.” 

“If it’s any help, I know how that feels. To be an object. You looked… Like me. Before, then.” 

“You looked like me, too,” I said. We went quiet, then, watching each other as though we were looking through a mirror. Skylar’s eyes were brown, flecks of green making them vibrant and big. She looked at me with a calm smile, that thin line of her face drawn up in the corners, making her look older and sadder. 

“Maybe we are mad,” she said. 

“Maybe. But if we are, then I’m happy with that. I have you.” 

“Not your cousins.” 

I sighed. “No. I can’t… I can’t stay with them. You’re right. It’s wrong.” 

“You’d be no different than your father.” 

“I’m not my father,” I muttered. 

“No. You’re not. You’re sweet. You’re not like any noble I’ve ever met.” She closed her eyes. “Nobles don’t look. They don’t see. They live in their vices and never come out to see the reality that they live in. But you saw me.” 

“And now we’re safe. We’re together. And that’s all that matters, right?” 

“Are we safe?” She asked. 

I stared at her. My bottom lip trembled. “Aren’t we? No one ever comes through that door, no one but other humans. We’re away from everyone else.”

“On the other side of that door is a den of lions.” I ducked my head away fretfully. My eyes settled on the door to the hall. Slowly, the blood seemed to leave my hands until the tips of my fingers and toes were chilled, and my mouth filled with copper. I’d bitten the inside of my gum too hard. 

“They won’t ever come to see us.” 

“Your father might.” 

“He wouldn’t.”

“He might.” 

“No.” 

“What if your cousins do?” 

“He- I wouldn’t mind.” 

“But they might try something,” she said emphatically. “They might want something from you, something you’re not willing to give. What if they want you to do something for you and it just hurts you more? Every time you engage in such things, it’s only leading you further down the wrong path.” 

“That… That’s not…” 

“And if it’s not them, then it’s your tutor, or a guard, or any other noble that wanders in and isn’t going to be put off when you raise your voice. Not like last time. And then you’d have nowhere left to run and hide this time.” She gripped my hand tight, her nails digging into the skin. I froze at the tears in her eyes. “All you’ve ever done for me is help me,” she whimpered. “All you’ve ever done for me is keep me safe. This is the first time in forever that I knew I could wake up in the morning and not feel like I was about to be touched again. And I can’t do the same for you. I can’t make you safe. I can’t keep the monsters away, because they’re right outside the door and they want you, not me.” 

“Skylar, please don’t cry. I can’t bear it if you cry.” 

“I can’t help it, I just… Oh, Quill.” She pressed her lips against mine. 

I’d never felt anything like it before. Something so small, so sweet, so chaste. Something to savour. Something delicate. Something pure. 

I thought I knew what love was before I met Skylar. But I was crying, my mouth half agape as she slowly pulled away with the sweetest blush on her face. And then I knew I was in love. 

“We can’t stay here,” she said.

“Give this place a chance,” I murmured. “Just a chance. We’ll be safe. And I’ll keep us both safe. Together.” 

For a moment, her eyebrows furrowed, she chewed on the inside of her cheek, and she clenched her hands. Then she swallowed what she wanted to say, nodded, and pressed her face back against my chest. 

“Don’t break my heart, Quill,” she muttered. 

“I would die before I’d do that.” I rubbed her shoulder, willed my erection to go down, and focused instead on the fluttering in my heart. 

….

“Quill!” The knocking wouldn’t stop. “Quill, please, just talk to us, just for a moment!” 

Skylar looked up from her book to the door, then to me expectantly, those beautiful eyes filled with nervousness. The only reason she wasn’t gone off to the closet to hide was my reaction, but her hackles were raised, her history text quickly shut. I bit my tongue, then closed my book and sat back with a sigh. I knew that voice anywhere. I’d only wished it had come later. But months had gone by. I couldn’t avoid them forever.

Lod was flushed, breathing hard from the pounding he’d done against the poor door, but all bravado was gone when I was staring him in the face. He took a step back, only to fall into Jillian. 

“What is it?” I asked.

Jillian sputtered, and knocked Lod out of the way. “What is it – Quill what the blood hell are you on about? Are you alright? Are you safe? It’s been months, we’ve only just gotten away from our tutors – I swear, the life of a hand-to-be. What’s this about you being shut up in your chambers? Did your father try anything, did anyone? Tell us!”

“He scared the tutor off, I was-” Lod tried to say, but Jillian shushed him. 

“You don’t even come out to the dining hall! Not even a hello to us! I thought you’d died- Not a word? Not one? We’ve been waiting! I know we’ve been busy and all, but – anything, just to come to us at dinner would have been enough! You’ve disappeared on us, you can’t do that to me!” 

“Jill- calm down. It’s alright. I’ve just been trying to avoid the sight of anyone that might try something. It’s been calm, I’ve been perfectly alright.” She was barrelling close, and I had to duck out of the way. 

Skylar watched from her reading nook, curls of unruly hair framing wide eyes. Jillian regarded her for a moment, then immediately turned back to me in worry, grabbing both sides of my face before I could run. Sighing, I let her push them together until I resembled an unimpressed fish.

“So it worked? They’re leaving you alone? No incidents, you’re safe? That eye candy’s kept you confident and desirable, right?” 

“Yes,” I mumbled around her hands. “Sort of. This is Skylar. Sorry I never said anything, I didn’t think to come out, not when I could ask the servants and stay here.” I bit back any other remark. They couldn’t have known my true intentions. Outright telling them I was avoiding them would do no good. This was bound to happen at some point. I could hear Skylar’s voice in my head already, her constant whimpers, asking us to leave, to cut away the taint and seek refuge and a future elsewhere. Staying would only draw them back to me, she’d say. Staying would only cause them to ask more questions. As far as they’re concerned, I was still a sinner, just as they were. I couldn’t entirely agree with her, but I also couldn’t find much of an argument. Every time she’d remind me of the possibility of their return, of their wants, of their desires, I’d pretend it would be tomorrow’s problem. 

Tomorrow had come. 

“Skylar?” Lod nervously dipped his head inside from his perch outside the door. Jillian whipped her head around to the human in a second glance, her hands still firmly clasping my cheeks, then the she grinned. 

“Your entertainment girl serving you nicely then?” She leered.

I choked, and the spell had broken. Across from us, Skylar’s features twisted into a primal growl, receding into her nook, behind the window curtain. Her eyes remained uncovered, watching the Lord noble woman with guarded anxiety. My throat clenched itself closed, and I had to suppress the urge to run to her. 

Jillian and Lod turned to me in question. 

“She’s not – She’s a friend.” I pushed Jill’s hands off of me to massage my jaw. “She’s not an entertainment girl.” 

“You got her from that slaver, didn’t you?” Lod asked. “Or is this a different one? She’s not a noble…” He appraised the girl with no courtesy, unabashedly staring at every aspect until the girl had to curl the curtains tighter and more securely around herself to avoid being mentally undressed. Lod meant nothing by it, anyone who knew nothing of Lod could assume curiosity automatically equated to want. Or perhaps I’d been gone too long. “She looks so different.” 

“No, that’s definitely the one he came out with, Loddy,” Jill said, and crossed her arms with nothing else left to do with them. Her eyebrows narrowed, as if processing what I had said. “She’s just had a meal or two in her now. Cleaned up. An entertainment girl, through and through.”

“She’s not a slave,” I growled. “She’s just a person. Like you or I. And I’m protecting her.”

My cousins stopped, then. Lod stared at me, the shock evident. Jillian froze, her mouth set in an O. The rustle of the curtains was the only thing to break the silence. 

“What?” Jillian was the first to speak, somewhat quieted through disturbance.

“She’s like me, Jill.”

“She’s human, Quill.” 

“And?” 

“And a human is a slave!” She exclaimed. She let go of her hands then, her chest pronounced and breathing heavy. The reality was beginning to strike her, but I couldn’t back down from one of her temper tantrums. 

“She’s not a slave,” I glowered. 

“You got her from a slaver, she’s been trained as a slave, she’s got bloody brown hair and eyes, what, you think she’s a noble?”

“She’s not a slave.”

Jill’s mouth curled into a snarl. “If she’s not a slave, then you don’t have the protection we were all supporting you to get, do you understand that?” 

I found myself pushing her before I knew that my hands were up to. She was suddenly flying back, my chest heaving, as I watched her through hooded eyes. Fury made me stupid, and words I didn’t want to tell her swam through my head. I had to keep myself upright. I couldn’t tell them, not even if I was upset. They didn’t need to know. 

“She’s been hurt too. Just like me. We don’t have to make her anything. No one’s going to know anyways.” 

“Did you just put your hands on me?” Jillian drew up to her full height, but she no longer towered over me like she used to. “She’s not like you, Quill. She’s just a human. We are nobles, there is a hierarchy for a reason. Even if you made her free – they’d know, you know they would. Someone would find out and besides, she’s not worth caring about. They’re like animals. They’re weak, physically, emotionally - and her only use right now is as defense! For you.” She tried her luck on getting closer. I took a step back. What she said signified nothing but greater rage. “Please, Quill, I’m worried. Is this what you’ve been doing this whole time? What did she say to you? What’s gotten into you?” 

“He’s been studying.” Lod looked to the books on the desk. He glanced at Skylar’s crouched and fearful glare, his own expression unreadable. Then he turned to us uncertainly. Quietly, he played with a loose button on his vest. “Maybe he’s been safe here, Jill.” 

“I have!” I said adamantly. “I’ve gotten lots done, my father hasn’t visited, Skylar and I have been staying safe together and no one has bothered us. She doesn’t need to be a slave! And she thinks like us, she’s just as much entitled to not being afraid as I am!”

“I can’t believe the words that come out of your mouth,” Jillian muttered. “You. And Skylar. The human.” She turned her gaze over to the pillows dividing the bed. “You don’t even touch her, do you?” Her eyes narrowed on the girl in question, huddled behind the curtains, terrified. Subtly, I turned my frame, dividing the room between Jill and Lod, and Skylar and I. 

“She’s a friend. I would never do anything she wouldn’t want.” 

“A friend?” Jill asked incredulously. 

“A…” I looked helplessly to Skylar, but her eyes were too busy focused on Jillian and Lod. There was no point in explaining it to Jill. She’d never experienced it. She didn’t know. She was like the rest of them, just as all the other nobles. She cared about me, so did Lod. We loved each other. But they didn’t see. They didn’t know. And they’d never open their eyes to look at themselves in the mirror and realize what was wrong with themselves. They weren’t the outcasts unable to live their lives in this godforsaken palace without being touched by any man that wanted them. Nor were they able to see the past for what it was. Wrong. All of it, it was dirty, wrong, full of twists and turns that only served the purpose of my selfish wants and theirs. And all it led to, was our downfall. 

I should never have kissed Lod. 

“Look,” I sighed. “Thank you for visiting me. I appreciate it. But we should – we should be focusing on our own exploits right now.” 

“What are you talking about?” Jill growled. 

“That you probably have a lot of business to do right now, with being a Left Hand soon. I’ve heard the previous has fallen ill, it can’t be long now. And Lod has his own work, perhaps his father might get him into Hand too.” 

“Quill,” Lod began in a stutter. “I’d never-“ 

“There is a lot of studying to be done, work to do in the Palace. Maybe you’ll find a different position.” 

Jillian turned purple, her teeth clenched, but she said nothing. 

“We all should be moving on with our lives, right?” I spoke as civilly as I could. I could feel Skylar’s eyes on me, watching my every word. “We should be learning to live on our own, finding ourselves. As individuals. And perhaps the best way to do that, for myself, is to stay here. To grow up, without fear. To learn. I’ve learned a lot here.” I grimaced. “Now that I have the time, now that I’ve tutored myself, and-” 

“Quill, are you telling us you don’t want to see us anymore?” Lod’s voice was small. Quiet. 

In it was a pain that cut through my skin like a whip. 

The droop of his expression was too much. I had to look away. But it remained, that gloom that I couldn’t avoid even when I turned away, that quiet sadness and desolation. From a voice that loved me. From a voice used to whine and moan beneath and above me. A voice that cared so deeply for me, who always listened, who I’d brought down with me into the darkness and madness that Wonderland so easily facilitated. I’d read more than enough. I knew exactly what we’d nearly fallen into. What I’d drawn them towards. This world was twisted, and wrong, and full of a hypnotism that one wrong step could lead one down the path of a mad man. Like my father. Like us. 

And now I was cutting them off. And I couldn’t. I couldn’t forget it. 

I loved him too much. Far, far too much. “I’m just saying… I… I…” I couldn’t find the words. I was sputtering in front of them, unable to finish a sentence with those apprehensive eyes on me. I lapsed into nervous silent, my mouth hung open, gulping breaths of air and clinging at nothing. 

“You two are dangerous for him!” Skylar barked from the safety of the curtains. Jillian snarled, and Lod’s eyes grew even wider. He was an owl staring back at the human that dared to challenge him. 

“Skylar,” I hastened. “It’s alright, you shouldn’t say something like that.” 

“No, it’s not!” She got up, pushed the curtains off in one fluid motion, then fell into my arms in seconds. The grip on my neck was almost too tight. She turned on them, all defiance and righteous fury. Her body huffed, her breasts pressed up against my side. “It’s not okay. It’s not fair. They come barging in here, demanding to talk to you, and they don’t even realize what they’re doing to you by staying here! They want me to be a slave to give you protection, but none of that matters while they stay here only giving them more reason to harm you.” 

“Who the bloody hell do you think you are, you bitch?” Jillian hissed. “You’re a human, you’ve no right to go running your mouth like that.” 

“Jill!” Lod tugged her sleeve. “Please! Get a hold of yourself.” 

“You don’t get to call Skylar a bitch,” I growled. 

“You both already ruined Quill when you brought him down the wrong path in the beginning,” Skylar said, her breath coming in harsh, ragged pants. She should have been sitting down, resting. She needed to rest. She still wasn’t well. She still needed time. Even now, months later, I could see the effects of her previous life. I could see the scars, the lines of a whip on her back, the way her back never seemed to align properly. Beautiful, and broken. “You two got him into your stupid games, ruined him, and gave everyone else an excuse to hurt him. Well you got what you wanted now, he’s got nothing left. He can’t even be in the same room with you two unless he’s to risk someone knowing, and using him again.”

I looked to Skylar in confusion. I was the one that led them down that path. This was my fault. 

“Skylar,” I began, then hesitated.

“What?” Lod balked. “Quill – he – he started that!” He flushed. “I mean-“ 

“Don’t you bother arguing with her, Loddy.” Jillian glared at the human with the same murder she usually reserved for my father. I held Skylar tightly, but I kept finding myself looking between them, uncertain if speaking would help or hinder. “She’s got some stupid story that she’s fabricated from half truths she made. At least, I hope. I would at least hope he told the whole story but now I can’t be sure.” She regarded with me with an icy chill, and I swallowed. 

“Don’t you see it?” She asked. “Do you really think what she just said makes any sense? Should we not check up on you? Should we pretend that what we’ve been through never happened, and leave you to stew with some human girl that spouts lies and makes you forget yourself?” 

“I… I know you care for me, I appreciate it, I don’t want you to hate me.” 

“So you’ve picked a human over us.” 

I lowered my eyes. “What we were wasn’t healthy Jill, and it painted a target on our backs. What we did before, it was wrong.” 

Jillian fell silent. 

“Quill,” Lod muttered. “Were? Do you… You… don’t…” 

“Do you really think we could have kept that up forever?” I asked. “Do you truly think there was nothing twisted in our intentions? Wanting… All those terrible things along the way. Asking things of you that were as embarrassing as they were wrong. Did you never pause to realize the nature of it all?” 

I clung to Skylar like a life raft, looking at the two of them, both of them with eyes so full of confusion and hurt. 

“It… It’s wrong, isn’t it?” I asked. Skylar nodded her agreement, but my eyes were on my cousins. “It’s wrong, it’s always been that way. I… I shouldn’t have led you down that path. It was my fault. But…” I grimaced. “We’re just nobles, aren’t we?” 

“What?” Lod’s voice was thick. 

“We all have these stupid, wrong ideas that we can, you know, change right and wrong. Like we get to decide. But there is a right, and there is a wrong. We’re not… Men shouldn’t lie with men, and they shouldn’t lie with their relatives. It’s wrong. Right? All this time, what my father did was wrong. If we… If we kept at this, we’d be no better than him. I’d be no better than him. I can’t keep leading us down this path. It was me that got hurt first, the consequences that were both my doing and my father’s. But what’s to stop them from going after you next, Lod? Or Jill? All of it is wrong.” 

Jillian grabbed Lod’s hand. The boy was crying, silent, big tears as he stared at my face and waited. I knew what he wanted. I wanted to say it too. I wanted to tell him just how much I cared for him. Just how much I wished I could have held him too. I gripped Skylar as tight as a vice, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t him, and it never would be him. It couldn’t be. 

He was already reluctant in moving, a whimper at the edge of his throat as his sister pulled him along. Her hair hid most of her features, but the cold eyes I could see tried desperately to hide the pain behind them, pulling her brother to the door to end this whole ordeal as swiftly as possible. He made it difficult when he stopped altogether at the threshold. He stood there for a moment, his shoulders squared, his jaw trembling, and I almost thought he was crying. 

“Quill!” He shouted. He ripped his arm from Jill’s and it was when he turned around and ran back to me that I saw the smile on his face, the nervous, worried, near crazed smile that broke me. “You’re not being serious, right? What- you can’t – didn’t we-“ He reached out for my hand, and I remember his voice, his breath, his cock, his eyes, his smile, his hair in my face, his chest pressed up against mine. 

“You told me you loved me,” he said. “That doesn’t just disappear, right? This is just some trick, right?” 

I took a step back from him as Skylar tightened her grip around me. The only solace I had was in the comforting warmth of the girl pressed up against my side. Even then, everything else felt so cold. “We were children, Lod.” I muttered. “You’re my cousin. We never should have. You should find a nice girl. A human, or a noble, but find someone else. Not Jillian. Not your sister. It’s not healthy. It was wrong, from the very beginning.” 

He stopped, his hand outstretched, untouched, then he dropped it slowly, along with his head. 

“Right,” he said. He scratched the back of his head, turned to his sister, and grimaced at the hallway ahead of them. “Right then. I’m glad you’re alright.” He took one unsteady step after another to his sister, took her hand, and sighed. “I won’t contact you anymore. I’m sorry. For tempting you.” 

“It’s not your fault,” I muttered, but he didn’t hear it. He was already gone. 

Skylar loosened her grip on me as I fell to the floor. 

She held me. She held me until I stopped crying, until I fell asleep in her arms, and for a long time after.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gore Warning.

MARGRET

In the dead of night, the city refused to sleep. The world continued to turn, and yet the Capital wouldn’t listen to the moon high up in the sky, nor the stars that gleamed and offered so little light. Screams echoed through the cobbled wet streets that had seen rain not two hours earlier. Drinks clashed against each other in cheers, along with the roar of an audience in some bar tucked away on a corner. The sound of a breathing, running girl chased down an alleyway echoed through the air, followed by the hollering of a man, calling out futilely for the thief that had robbed him of his pocket watch. No one would listen to him tonight. The crowds on the streets weren’t the busy workers maintaining to keep the city barely breathing with their commerce, they were the nobles with too much idle time on their hands and a cock that wouldn’t settle. He got nothing but laughter directed his way, that some women had managed to get the upper hand. Jeers went after the bearded figure, suggestions of what to do with the girl once he’d found her. He ignored them, and kept running.

The red light district was still filled with skin on skin in the middle of the streets, laughter, moans, and screeches of a slave girl that hadn’t gotten the message that her pleasure and safety didn’t matter. Doors were still open, smoke joining together out into the cool night air and drifting up to muddle the dark and cloudless sky. An elderly turtle of a man peered out from an old and rotting wooden entrance with the tip of the hookah pressed against his mouth, before he let go and breathed out that sickly sweet smoke. Alcohol ran as much as water, both in rivulets joining together as men smashed bottles against the sides of brick buildings in drunken fun. One managed to hit a window, and the glass shattered. They only laughed harder, with a new goal in mind to break as much as they could. 

Two slave women were brought together in the street, nude and made to mash their fingers against each other’s slits while the grit and dirt stained their bodies black. Their audience, a crowd of King nobles, were laughing as they jerked themselves off with one hand and drank with the other. The eyes of the two humans whirled like a horse’s in a state of panic, whinnying and shaking as they tried their best to pretend some façade of pleasure. One girl’s nail nicked the other’s snatch, and blood ran with spittle.

A pack of Queen nobles prowled the streets, searching for a little spit-fire of a Lord noble boy to make their own. They said so themselves between smokes of a cigar, their voices dropped as though a louder voice would scare off the prey. A surprise would be key, the first one said. Noble as they were, a Lord was still a Lord, and everyone knew of the way their assholes wept and stretched just like a woman’s cunt. They were no better than slaves, only thing missing was the money.

Those creatures passed by those human girls that were so fearful and worried one wrong move would make it a cock instead of a gentle finger. The red-haired roosters didn’t give them so much as a glance on the torture going on beside them; they had something else in mind. Their voices lowered, nodding at the drunken King nobles, but that didn’t stop the name calling after them for being so obsessively interested in Lord noble men. How serious did they have to be, hunting for prey? They weren’t prey, just pick up some bottom like the rest of us in a bar, and you’d be golden. You don’t have to fight for Lord ass, one complained, Queen nobles get everything they wanted in the Capital. It didn’t deter them, the ones that craved the thrill of prey that fought back, the idea of blood and death, and pain. They blended easily into the crowd of orgies still in their throes of passion, leaving behind nothing more than footsteps in their wake. Whatever unlucky Lord noble they caught was somewhere out there, among them, probably fucking himself raw against some slave woman that warmed his bed. He’d realize the mistake he’d made in briefly leaving the safety of his room soon enough, when he was fucked bloody and left to drag himself back home. 

I turned into an alley to catch my breath, and tried to hold back the laughter. 

All of it was so delicious. So broken and desolate. Under a dark night the torches and oil lamps burned, the screams and moans and laughter bubbled up under the stars that shown down so indiscriminately. Everyone eating each other, unable to get enough. The city gobbled up indeterminately, digesting the dominator, the dominated, it didn’t matter who. The world was an ouroboros of madness and greed. I could feel it. The insanity. The knowledge that was on the edge of everyone else’s lips. Reality, hidden just behind vice. 

That the world was decayed. That the world was over, and all that was left was to grab at the brief flashes of life and pretend that we still had souls. 

The cloak was black, darker than shadow, darker than night. I looked at myself in the large pool of rainwater in front of me, and a hooded figure of no description looked back. A face hidden by fabric and by magic, who’s gender became a thing of question as the shapeless curtain hid all. Sigil had given me a gift. I wasn’t myself in this. I was the face of the truth. I was the face of what people were meant to be. And that was all anyone needed to know about this figure. And in their hand was clutched a jagged, purple dagger, silver with blood from the light of the moon. 

A giggle bubbled from out of my throat before I could catch it. I pressed a pale, scarred hand up to my mouth. 

I could smell it. I could smell the sex, the blood, the alcohol, the smoke, all of it, mingled together within the folds of bloodstained skin. The body wouldn’t be found for another hour, but it would be found. I’d hear the scream, but then they’d be looking in the wrong places. They wouldn’t see that another was already brought low. As many as I could manage. As many as I could touch. It was only a matter of time before they all saw the truth. 

My hands, cold and clammy from the rain, were bruised and rubbed raw from holding the implement too tightly. But even loosening the grip a little would risk letting go of my beautiful weapon, and I couldn’t have that. It was an extension of my arm, the only thing that I could feel. I’d long since lost touch in my fingers, pale and blue as they were, and holding onto the leather handle of the hand-me-down was the only thing I could recognize. It kept me here, in this alley, and not somewhere else that wasn’t worth thinking about. This was where I was to be. 

There was a Duchess noble walking with some King noble friend of us, the breath of whiskey puffing from their gobs in between meaningless laughter. They turned into my alley, all slurred speech and happy, jovial talk. I stood back, blending into the shadows and turning from my perch that gave me the most wonderful snapshot of the Capital in the height of its debauchery. 

“This way mate,” the King noble said so confident in his drunken stupor. “I know the way, don’t you worry. Best scotch in town, criminally low for the aged stuff. Plus, I know the owner.”

The Duchess noble snorted until the whiskey bubbles popped in his nose. “The owner’s wife, more like. I’d wager you drank that scotch under his very eyes with one hand and fingered her with the other.” 

“Oi, I’d never,” The King noble unsteadily pressed a hand against his chest, then wiped back the greasy forest green hair that had collected in his eyes. “I’m not the type.” 

“What type are you then, mate? That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out all night. Most of the last month, really. You’re so quiet, and suddenly you’re taking the lead?” 

“Just trying to show you a good time,” he said uncertainly, but his laughter had subsided. He regarded the man with new intensity. 

“What kind of good time is that?” The Duchess noble grinned, slurred in his voice and body as he tried to knock his shoulder against his friend. It was an innocent, jovial grin, one of comfort, of friendship. Innocence. 

The long silky aqua hair pulled into a braid made for a good grip as the King noble turned on his friend, pushing his head back violently as he kissed the man. 

I gripped the dagger tighter when they slammed against the stone wall beside me. Less than a foot away, the Duchess noble’s eyes were as wide as the moon itself, his lips being smashed by a man more than a foot taller than him who moaned almost desperately as he refused to let up. His tongue pushed into his mouth, not giving the smaller man even a chance to breath as he mashed body against body, groin against groin, in a wild kind of frustration. But the smaller man’s body was flush against him even after King noble began to realize what he’d done, the Duchess noble’s hands coming to rest atop the other’s shoulders with eyes still so wide and unsure. The King noble wanted to pull away. The Duchess noble kept him there. 

“Mate,” he finally grunted when he’d found his lips safe again. “Just how drunk are you?” 

“Dunno,” The King noble breathed in his ear. “World’s spinning.”

“You should give yourself a breather before you think of doing that again, then.” 

“No,” he muttered. “This is the first time I’ve gotten the bloody balls for this, but I don’t want to just back down. Mate…” He paused, and the younger man shuddered. “Feel that?” 

“You’re bloody plastered, I don’t want your cock up against my stomach.” 

“I’ve never got it up with girls,” he muttered. “Not one.” 

The Duchess noble balked. “Not even at Felts’?”

“You think I would have spent good money on girls at a brothel when they had human men there for me fuck? I just… I don’t tell anyone.” 

“You’re a King noble –“ The Duchess noble began in disbelief. 

“I know. They’re not exactly forgiving. Why do you think I came to the Capital? They don’t care what I do here. I don’t have someone breathing down my neck to right my behaviour and tell me what I am is an abomination. Do you care? Do you want me to stop?” 

“Bloody hell, Sam.” The Duchess noble sighed. 

“Do you care that I’m a deviant?” The King noble insisted.

“No, come here damn you. I thought I was the one on the outs here, and now you’re telling me you want me? Just stop talking.” The Duchess noble grabbed the man by the neck and they were entwined, a mess of slobber and moans. The King noble’s cigar fell from his hands forgotten, in front of me. It sputtered and smoked as it drowned in the black, seeping puddle of rainwater. The smaller man mumbled something around the King noble’s mouth, then pressed kisses against his neck to catch his breath. The larger man didn’t seem to care, as long as he was kissing something. His mouth latched onto the smaller man’s shoulder, moving as low as he could around the buttoned collar of his shirt. 

The Duchess noble moaned. “Mate you dropped a perfectly good cigar. I bought that for you.” 

“I’ll buy you a new one,” the King noble growled, utterly unconcerned as he ground his lower half against the man. The Duchess noble laughed, his eyes drooped with alcohol. 

“No, you big git, I bought it for you, not for me. You even listening anymore?” He looked over at the cigar, his eyes dull with drink and arousal, comfortable, content. Then they slowly widened when he noticed the shoes a few inches away from it. The Duchess noble’s eyes trailed from the cigar, up painfully slow, to see the cloaked figure in front of the two of them. That’s when the alcohol left. The dagger in my hand shook faintly. Too much tension, too much want flowed into my arm, wanting so desperately to strike. His eyes flew to the silvered blood that dripped in along the puddle, then a slow, terrified whine rose from his throat as he realized what it was. The King noble thought it was want. He was spurred onward, biting bruises into the man’s neck. 

“Sam,” the Duchess noble stuttered. “Sam-”

“I love when you call my name,” the bigger man groaned. But the Duchess noble was struggling now, trying to push his drunken friend off, his body still too slow to sober up. 

“Sam!” 

“What?” The drunken man slurred. “What’s wrong, Gord? Do you want me to stop? Did I go too far?” 

The Duchess noble opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again when the King noble screamed. 

I wrenched the dagger from the monsters’ back, relished the way that blood and flesh tore back due to the shape of the blade, and decided to slash the next time. I grabbed one side, and tore in front with the other. His stomach parted, coarse slicing of the skin diving away to make room for the metal, dull and taking skin with it. It was a rip, more than a cut, a dig into the flesh that combined with spurting gore and blood to show just how deep I’d managed to wedge the thing in there. The stench was electric, metallic, shit, half digested food. The heat formed steam in the chill night air as the guts of the King noble spilled from his stomach. Gutted like a pig, and all it took was leverage, and a slow, steady slice. 

He fell to the ground in front of the Duchess noble, organs spilling like upturned food, twisted and cut from the knife that sliced without care. Half of it rolled onto the man in front of him, staining his shoes with the dark liquor and an unyielding scent. The rest had splashed onto the front of the smaller man’s shirt, soaked red that glowed white in this light, just like the rainwater. The larger male, the one I’d tagged, he was pale as the grave, staring up at the man, little more than groaning remnants of what he’d been. He was still half hard in his pants, now stained with his own piss. It was almost lost in the scent of decay and stomach acid. He coughed once, and the blood splattered his chin. Numbly, he held out a hand, and tried to pull at his own organs. As if they could return from whence they came. His eyes were fading even as he moved, not enough understanding for the fear to settle inside him. 

I stared at it in fascination. The gloom, the absolute terror on the smaller man’s face, the realization, the despair, and the soft, dying whimpers of a man beneath me. He was little more than meat. Soon, that was all he’d be. 

I wasn’t done. The blood was in the air. Life. Flashes of energy, of a world that wasn’t dead. 

The large man was heavier than I’d first thought, but turning him over was still nothing to me. The electrifying taint made my muscles lock, numb and stronger than metal. All I could see was red. My hands did as they pleased. All he could manage was weak whimpers, pleas for mercy, for help. There was nothing left in him. He looked back at me with an exhausted slobbering moan, and with the last ounce of energy he had, mouthed something at me I couldn’t understand. 

The stomach was the easiest to play with, the part with little to no bone in the way. I could see the wound, the deep gouging rip of something that had eaten him the same way that he ate. But slicing open his handsome face was a feat in itself, as well, something I relished specifically. The blade was never sharp, or well-suited for surgical cuts. Gliding the rough knife around the nose, the ears, the lips, anything my blade could reach, led to rips and tears in the flesh. It was sharp enough, certainly, but it was so malformed, so broken, so greedy that it took with it flesh wherever it went. At points, it skinned the man more than stabbed him. It took away the skin, the flesh, the handsome features. There was nothing left of what had once been a King noble. 

He was dying. The bubbles of blood that rose from his mouth were the only movements he made now. The sickly metallic smell was overwhelming. I had to breathe through my mouth. The scent was so heady, so thick, I was faint. 

The Duchess noble just stood there. He’d pissed his pants as well. But unlike the man on the ground holding on to the thinnest strands of life, this one was still very much alive. Though he was so still I’d begun to wonder if he were holding onto the thinnest strands of reason. His chest moved rapidly as he watched me slice, his eyes dilated and his hands clenched, white knuckled, into fists. 

I turned up to look at him when his friend was certainly dead, and waited for him to say something. Anything. Say something, damnit. 

He looked back at me with tears in his eyes. 

I grinned wider from under my hood. Heartbreak. So intimate. So personal. If I squinted, I might have even seen something living. 

I couldn’t look too close.

“Why…” He finally choked. 

I had to fight down another choking, crying, screaming laugh. I wouldn’t dare say a word. A voice was enough. It was the only thing that they could use to know me. To realize what I was. And they needed to know that I was the truth. I was not some Wonderlander, I had put that behind me. 

“You’re that murderer,” he stuttered. I was surprised he kept talking. I was surprised I hadn’t gone for him. This one was finished beneath me, unmoving and bleeding out. But I couldn’t seem to find the energy. My legs were stuck on either side of the man beneath me, the blade resting in numbed, scarred hands. Sweat and rain water ran down my neck, blood threatening to force my eyes shut. But then, he wouldn’t see that. He’d see a black cloak curled around the man he’d been kissing, the knife poised by the dead noble’s eviscerated cheek. “You’re the monster. You’re the reason everyone’s so afraid.” 

Then why were they still here? Why did he stay? Why didn’t he run? Why didn’t he see me? Why didn’t he see anything? Why didn’t he open his eyes and take a look around him and realize what he was living in the midst of? 

I stabbed my knife through his friend’s eye, and left it there. Then I turned back to the man and watched as he took off heaving. He didn’t get far before he had to throw up, but then he was back to running, blood and regurgitated alcohol staining his front. He probably didn’t see the way I stumbled, the way I couldn’t seem to get back up again. If he knew, maybe he would have tried for my knife. Maybe he would have sliced open my own throat, and left me for dead.

I turned back to the person I’d killed. And I bit back the screams. It was getting harder. I thought it would get easier with every kill. I thought that focusing on the blood would be enough. That a false, twisted philosophy might have helped me through it. Anything to get another taste, another dead thing, another dose of blood. But I was now looking at a body, a person I’d killed. His life was gone. He’d never get up again. His face was still twisted in agonizing pain. He’d died hurting. Heartbreak. That man cared about him. 

I raised my bloodied hands up to my face. They were blue, stained red, and nothing. My wrists itched with cold, but my hands weren’t my own. My legs were covered with bruises, but I wouldn’t have known. My ribs were harsh with pneumonia. The coughs racked my body. The rheumy eyes. The nose that didn’t stop running. And the blood that was steadily soaking the front of my shirt, chilling me to the bone as the warmth faded to the same temperature as puddles of water around us. For an eternal summer, the Capital could certainly be cold. 

I grabbed the man’s shirt collar, pulled the dead weight to my face, and knocked his head against mine. I memorized the face of the man I’d killed. His good eye was lolled into the back of his head, the mouth parted, the face utterly destroyed by the dagger. His hair was black from the dirt and rain water, only subtle notes of green to ever show that he’d been noble. I wondered how many people he’d destroyed. How many slaves he’d killed without care. How many people who’s lives he’d ruined. How he’d contributed to the world that I was now locked inside, unable to escape. 

I closed my eyes and there were the flashes of memories. Another life. I could still see it now, a world where the sky was blue and there was something that still existed inside me. Some weakness that thought there could be peace. 

And Rettah. 

I tore out the knife, the blood splattering my front, and threw myself off of the man like he was made of hot coals. Heaving, I stared at him for a moment longer, my eyes bugging out of my skull, before I turned and ran. 

The sky was blacker the closer one got to the factory district. Perhaps I followed the storm, perhaps the storm followed me. Or perhaps the fires in the factory district from bums unable to keep themselves warm finally got out of hand and took a lumber mill down with it. 

I didn’t care. 

Limping along, I drew the occasional glance my way, but the blood on my cloak had grown friendly with the black color of the fabric. They mingled and hid each other well, until I simply looked soaked to the bone. And I was. Coughing and hacking, nearly falling down at some points along the way, I was wet, chilled, and barely able to stand on my own two legs. But it meant the focus was on survival. I didn’t have to think. There was nothing to think about. I could just go back, to whatever storage property had been abandoned this time. 

It was a granary, long since overrun by rats. They weren’t afraid of humans.

Unapologetically they ran up to me as I closed the door behind me, the broken metal chains jangling to alert the creatures of my presence. The scent of blood was enough for them to come close. I paid them no attention at first. The coughs wracked my body, and when I spit up, blood from agitated lungs came with it. I hacked the spit to the ground, holding my arm up against a wall for support, then went down onto the dusty stone floor when it wouldn’t stop. 

I sat back and watched as the first one sidled up in front of me, it’s nose twitching and watching me for any sign of movement. I’d only made it a few feet from the door, the dagger still held in my hand, unable to unclasp the handle. The creature grew closer when it listened to the sound of my heaving, rasping breath. Here was a thing near dead, it wouldn’t be any trouble. I could barely turn my head to watch it as it sidled closer, navigating cracked stone floors and decaying mulch.

It nipped at my cloak, and that’s when I stabbed it through the head. 

The dagger was so heavy, so ragged that it took the head off of the vermin instead of slicing smoothly through the neck. It hadn’t made a noise. The only thing that did was the crunch as its back broke easily under the strength of my hand. I flicked it’s still whirling eyes at the rest of the pack and watched as they fought over the morsel that had been their kin seconds ago. The head was reduced to a skull in seconds, and even that was gnawed on for the marrow and brain. You’d think they’d be afraid. But they were too hungry to care. There’d be more coming for me. I’d have the dagger at the ready, still in my hand. I don’t think I could uncurl my fingers if I tried. I didn’t want to. 

Before they could come for the body, I grabbed it myself. The fur might have been soft in my hands, if I could feel it. I turned it over, observing the naked snake tail, the claws that were gnarled and sharp, and the oozing blood from the ripped apart neck. It smelled like must and rainwater. Fleas jumped away as I drew a finger over the fur.

My stomach growled. 

I ribbed away the fur down to the flesh, and took a bite, tasting nothing. 

As I ate, I listened to the sound of the rainfall starting up again. The water would wash away the blood. The next one to find those bodies would come across a pale, bloated dead thing drained of everything that had made it living. And then it wouldn’t be a problem anymore. It would join the decay, the rotting world, the death so prominent that everyone seemed to ignore.

I stared ahead at the abandoned grain storage, watched the rats attacking each other, picking apart at the tiny grains that had long since rotted, then tilted my head back and let out a sharp, heavy laugh. 

It felt strange to hear the sound of my own voice again. I opened my jaw, practiced moving it to the tune of clicking and cracking, then pulled off my cloak to check on the state of my hair. Little more than dreadlocks, down to my waste and the color of grime, brown with blood. I touched a bloodstained hand and came back with most crust on my chin, beneath gaunt cheeks. 

“It’s a fine day,” I said to the rats that had come up beside me again. I threw one of their kin’s legs into the crowd. “A fine day indeed,” I laughed, then broke into another coughing fit. 

I closed my eyes, took another bite, and began to cry. 

The wheezing breaths made it hard to take in enough air to sob, so all I could manage was the silent tears that fell from my cheeks as my nose stuffed itself with snot. I took another bite from the rat, avoiding the stomach and organs. The metallic blood squelched in my mouth, and I tried to ignore the flavor steadily growing on my palette. 

I curled up tighter. The cold was getting to me. I couldn’t feel my feet any long either. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cleaned myself. I hadn’t seen my feet in ages. Perhaps that was for the best. I didn’t want to know what I looked like. I wasn’t a person. I wasn’t supposed to be anything tangible, anything real. 

The rat tasted like death. 

The sobs that did come out, hurt. They choked my throat up, made it hard to breathe, made me have to swim through the snot. 

Tomorrow I’d do it again. I’d hold onto the strands of madness, and keep them tight against my bosom. I’d keep it safe, keep it alive, fanning the flames that made it so I didn’t have to think anymore. I didn’t need to think. I wasn’t a person anymore. If I was, I’d be stuck just like the rest of them, living in the rot and ruin of a world that had long since passed its due date. The only way left to feel alive, was death. 

Somewhere, far, far away, there was a monster that was once my brother. Perhaps he’d be fucking some noble, or slave girl. Perhaps he was eating himself into an early grave. Perhaps he was getting too drunk to stand upright. Perhaps he was my brother again. 

I took another bite of the rat, and tasted parasites. 

I couldn’t think like that. I couldn’t afford to. I put it out of my mind, and pretended not to exist. That was the way of things, that was what I had to be. Being a person what was made them grow wayward. It’s what made them stop thinking, and start living in the squalor that they thought was healthy. Those people that used sex to blind themselves, or else food, else drink, else entertainment. They didn’t see that there was no point. Who their Royal was. Who their lives were in service to. What their hubris had led to. There was a slippery slope we all steadily dove down towards at break-neck speeds with no chance to catch our breath. There was no one at the helm but a monster that wanted to bring madness to the realm. 

Well she’d gotten what she wanted. I was mad. I gave her everything she asked of me, from the beginning to the end. I couldn’t help it. No matter what I did, she would have had her way. I was fighting a losing battle from the very beginning. There was no possible way I would have ever escaped. Now I was just like the very things that this world claimed to hate. 

I forced myself to take another bite of the rat. Somewhere inside me I knew I was starving. Somewhere inside of me I knew that food was the only way I’d weather a sickness like this. 

I willed my tongue to be numb, too. The rest of me was. The cuts in my legs, sliced open from repeated falling in the streets, they drained me of the dark viscous fluid, but I felt nothing. I looked down at myself, at the body so entangled in a rag that had once been a cloak, and closed my eyes again when I’d drunk in enough of it. 

Tomorrow I’d break myself more. Tomorrow I’d sink deeper, struggling with all my might to hide behind something that I knew was just another vice. Tomorrow I’d lose a little more, living in the midst of death, knowing the world is dead, and telling everyone around me of the signs that they were so oblivious to. 

Tomorrow I’d drown myself in blood again, just for a taste of the electric life that it flashed before my eyes, so brief that it was gone before I could look again. In the mean time, sleep. 

Sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains: anal sex without preparation, underage, pain play, masochism, angst and sadness.
> 
> You wanna feel sad too? Listen to this while reading: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jZvmXSgzZZ8

QUILL

“When?” Skylar would ask me. 

“I see no reason that we’d have to go,” I’d answer, sitting at my desk, pouring over historical transcripts of ancient past Right Hand meetings. She’d sit back down on the bed, grab another book, and go back reading. 

This was the dance we’d play. 

“When?” She’d ask again. 

“No,” I’d answer softly, lying on the floor of the room that felt too small, shaking and weak with cold sweat from the nightmare I’d just returned from. Pictures still entered my mind no matter how much I tried to fight it. At least her presence proved they weren’t real. Nothing felt as real as that skin against my arm, or that breath on the back of my neck. “No, we can’t. We have to stay here.” 

She’d stroke my hair, press her face against my chest, and not ask me the question I knew that she wanted to. There was no why. There was no reason to stay here. There was nothing for us here. No friends. There was nothing but my own pride, my own fear. 

“When?” She’d ask once more. 

“I can’t,” I’d mutter, hiding from the guard that walked down the hall as if he owned the place. The servants hadn’t come with food, forcing us to go out on our own. I could guess why they’d ignored us, but I was determined not to let my father see us. Even so, I’d held Skylar’s hand as tight as anything, waiting for what I’d thought would be inevitable. He must have been watching me. He must have known what we were doing, seen through the games. He must have been looking over my progress, like a mouse in the way I ducked in and out of rooms, and wrinkled his nose in disgust at the son he’d raised. A coward. If only he’d just do as he was told, spread his legs and let his father do what he wanted. Why he hadn’t come to me yet, I couldn’t understand. What was he waiting for? Why didn’t he just come to me, fuck me, get this over. Stop making me wait for him. 

I couldn’t even look my own tutor in the eye when he was there. He ignored me, and I him, but he must have seen how I was shaking. He must have seen the way I couldn’t look anyone in the eye, not just him. The way that Jillian ignored me, grabbing a bowl of soup and running off to the kitchens where her brother spent most of his time these days. It was gone. All that bravado gone in the time I’d spent in that room. I felt naked. I was. I was waiting. I was just sitting here, waiting for those familiar yellow eyes set in a permanent frown. 

“When?” She murmured over my shoulder. 

I closed my eyes and pushed away the notes that had slowly turned into the ramblings of a madman. Nothing left there but doodles, and worry. Waiting. All I was doing was waiting. Slowly, I peered up to her with a sickly smile. Beautiful curls had grown in, nearly blond in the lamplight of the room we shared that wasn’t ours. Eyes so bold and worried for me. Lips as pink as roses.

I was dying here. 

I was livestock.

“Tomorrow,” I muttered. “We’ll find a carriage tomorrow.” 

Her cheeks warmed, and she pulled me into her arms to smother me in kisses. 

“You’re going to be happier there, Quill, I know it,” she whispered. “You’ll never have to see yellow hair again, if you don’t want to.” 

“Please, Skylar. I don’t want to think about it.” I gently drew back, clasped her hands in mine, and pulled her carefully into my lap. The fragile flower folded around me, her face pressed against my neck with the soft puffs of air warming my face. “This is my home. This has only ever been my home. There are people there. People I… I cared about.” 

“People that don’t deserve being cared about.” 

“I know,” I sighed, and hung my head. “I know there’s nothing here.”

“Then what are you clinging to? The Lord? You know he doesn’t care.”

I flinched. “I know. I know no one does. It’s just… Memories.”

“We’ll make new ones. I’ll be there, with you, every day of your life. I’ll be there for the days that hurt the most. You know I will.”

“I know,” I smiled. I looked down at her body, curled like a cat around me, and caressed those slim shoulders. Her body tensed for only a moment before it relaxed under my touch, and she smiled back with one of her warmest faces. “I love you, Skylar.” 

“I love you, too, Quill.” She kissed my cheek. 

“What is it like in the Capital?” I asked. “Is it big? I’ve read so much about it, the districts, the people, but nothing tells me of the reality.” 

“It’s beautiful there, Quill. Always so vibrant. Bustling with people. Filled with life. Parties, entertainment. And anyone can be anyone. Any noble, at least.” I faltered. 

“But not any human.” 

Her smile was sad. “No one will ask questions if I stay by your side. I’ll be alright.” 

“I want you to be free, Sky. I want you to feel like you never have to do anything for anyone ever again.” 

“Oh, Quill,” she chuckled. “I know I’ll be able to do that with you. I trust you. Always.” 

I dropped the conversation, not because I was satisfied, but because Skylar was looking at me with that sweet smile of hers, the one that told me she already knew, and she’d be alright. She’d accepted so much, taken everything in stride, and here I was fighting her every step of the fight. For what, for my father? For my cousins? For myself? She did what needed to be done, and I couldn’t ever seem to swallow my pride and try to live with what I had. I couldn’t ever seem to work in the confines given to me, to make a world within it. 

I had to trust in her. I had to know I could be like her. She still lived, and I knew I could too, if I let myself. 

We could make a bubble and ignore the rest of the world. We just needed to find somewhere to make that nest. Together. 

…..

Getting the carriage proved difficult, when all of the drivers knew who I was. 

I approached the first with the rucksack of my things in my arms and a cloak swept around to keep the early autumn chill off me. Dressed in a pale yellow blouse, brown buttoned vest and tied trousers, the driver only took one look at me, sniffed, wiped his runny nose, and thumbed me off with a smirk. 

“Hand’s kid, eh? I’m not touching that.” 

Skylar held my arm. It was her that kept my tongue in my mouth as I dipped my head and looked for another that was heading for the Capital. 

The lot on the side of the palace reserved for carriages and carts were ripped up with tracks and filled with rain water in the early daylight of morning. Stepping from one driver to the other took work, and very quickly Skylar’s dull emerald dress became thick on its hem with mud. My dress shoes were lost in the filth of horses. I could feel the cold and wet muck seeping into the leather, but I bit the inside of my cheek and kept searching. For hours, we went across the massive clearing. Searching. The yard for the carriages thinned out as the early morning wore on, and daylight perked up from the shadow of the building proper. Approaching in the middle of the night had proved fruitless, when my face elicited such a reaction. Sometimes a leer, sometimes nervous laughter, but never a yes. Never even an ask for how much we had to offer. 

Frustrated, the lack of movement was starting to get to me. We weren’t in our room. We were out in the open, surrounded by an orchard of apples and peaches and horses, and I was constantly looking over my shoulder and knowing that my father had to be there, somewhere, and that we were bound to get caught the more drivers we told of our plans. Just to the Capital, I’d told them. Just the Capital, me, my things, and Skylar. That was all. We had the money, I’d tell them. We had the funds, if only they’d say yes. We would pay them handsomely. And then Skylar would press closer with the shawl around her shoulders and tried to look doe-eyed and helpless for extra effect. 

Nothing. 

We approached the last carriage and the elderly driver that smoked a cigar, black toothed and exhausted. His thinning blond hair was greased back, riding clothes thick with dust from the horses kicking it up. Sluggishly, he sat at the head of the carriage on a seat that suited him well, his horses munching on a couple of forlorn apples lost in the mud. Crates of apples filled up half of the mottled brown carriage, the boxes filled to the brim and looking more wormy than the ones I was used to seeing in the dining hall. 

The last carriage. This was the last one. The only one. 

I cleared my throat, and approached him with my cold hands clutching the rucksack.

“Sir,” I began, but he held up a hand, and looked me over with an eye I only knew too well. 

“Hand’s kid.” He leered, then turned away and took another puff of the cigar. “No thanks.” 

I bit my lip, then threw my things to the ground. I regretted it a moment later, with the books I worried would be ruined, but I couldn’t stand it any longer. I was a hair away from turning round and running right back into that room I thought was safe and knew wasn’t.

“Please sir, you’re the last carriage going to the Capital.”

“There’s horses,” he said simply. 

“We can’t take a horse – I-I don’t know how to ride and besides they’re the property of the Lord, we’d be hunted down the instant we left!” Any excuse for my father. 

“Not my problem,” he spat out a black shot of snot, then took another puff of the cigar.

“Please, I’ll do anything, we just need a ride – we have money, we’ll pay you!” Of the thirty pounds I’d managed to squirrel away, only five were meant to budget the trip there. It was no small fee when an eighth could buy a hot meal, but if this man wanted more, then I’d do it. Whatever it took, I was willing. I’d give the entire thing to him if that’s what we needed. We had to leave. We couldn’t afford to turn away now. Skylar tried to pull my hand back, but my grip was stronger than hers. I couldn’t back down. This man looked at me like I was a piece of meat. I was sick of it, sick of being treated like this, like some kind of insect only there for someone’s enjoyment. And helpless when time suited them not. 

“I don’t want your money, boy.” The carriage driver peered over at us with a discriminating eye, sizing us up in a way that I hated. The hairs on my nape rose with that look. I hated the way I stood to attention. 

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then pointed at Skylar with a hand scarred from reigns. “Fifteen minutes with the girl. I’ll do it for that.” 

Skylar froze in place, her grip tightening on my shoulder. She gulped, almost looked as though she were about to step forward, but then I pushed myself between them with a rage that I could barely contain.

“You can’t touch her.” 

“Why not? She’s just a human. Your slave, I take it? Fifteen minutes is generous. I’d usually take an hour, but I’m guessing you want to be out sooner rather than later, being as you’re running away from home and all that.” 

“She isn’t to be touched. Not by anyone.” 

The man laughed, a coarse, hacking laugh. “Not even you, I’d bet. She’s got quite the set up. You’re one strange little thing, aren’t you?” He stamped the cigar on a sparse bit of wood beside him, chuckles still wracking his body. “You know you’re not exactly in a state to be demanding things. I could tell that father of yours and be rewarded handsomely for turning you in. Maybe I could even switch in my carriage, get something better than a couple of geldings. These old horses don’t have much travel left in them.” 

My heart skipped a beat, and I swallowed my tongue. He looked over at me when he saw I wasn’t speaking, and snorted. 

“White as a sheet, eh? I can only imagine what he’d do to you if he found you. I’ve heard things, I have.”

I said nothing. 

“Fine,” he eventually sighed. “If you’re so against my having a little fun with your girly, I’ll take you instead.” 

I hadn’t realized it, but I was backing up into Skylar. “What?” I choked.

“I’m not partial to either side, I’ll take a boy or a girl. And I’ve heard things about you, things that got my interest piqued. You might not be a looker, but you’ve got a good set of lungs on ya to moan with. Young, pliable. Done enough with everyone else in this godforsaken castle that you must have some experience by now. That’s what I hear.” 

“I… I’m not…”

“You had all of the goody goody Lord nobles going gaga over you, I hear, up until a few years back. Then you go dark, hide away, and suddenly you’re untouchable. Hiding away like a mouse. Makes me wonder if you age like a fine wine. And you don’t discriminate, do you?” He leered toothily. “If your father found out what you were planning on doing, I don’t think it would be the usual corporal punishment. I’ve heard how he treats his son, with a cock a healthy dose of cum.” 

“Let’s go, Quill,” Skylar muttered. She tugged my arm gently. “We can walk there. It will take time, but we can do it. Perhaps we’ll get there in a few weeks, if we’re fast.” 

“They’ll come after us, and my father would catch us too easily,” I muttered, still trying to process what the man had said. I supposed he thought it would hurt me. It did, on some level. But it had been too long. I could barely feel it anymore. He just reminded me of all the others. The Lord, my father, all they cared about was enjoying themselves. Sin. Those eyes of my father, watching me bounce on him so he could use my body to finish like he couldn’t with my mother. I felt… Hollow. 

“But you can’t do that to yourself. We’ll find another way, any other way.” Skylar didn’t even sound convinced herself. And she shouldn’t have been. We’d never make it far on foot. On horse back, we’d never be able to control the beasts. We’d be stealing from the Lord, something large enough to be unforgivable and have soldiers on our tail in no time. There was no other option. This was the only way to get to the Capital, and disappear. 

I closed my eyes, and tried to steady my heart. Then I pulled off my cloak to hand to her, walked up to the man and his leering black teeth, and sighed. 

“Fifteen minutes?” 

“Just enough,” he grinned. 

“Okay.” I tried to ignore the waver in my voice. “Fifteen minutes.”

“Quill,” Skylar gasped. “Quill, you can’t.” 

“I’m doing what needs to be done,” I said. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” 

I left Skylar there, mute and staring in terror as I followed the man off the beaten path and into the apple orchard. Her eyes burrowed into the back of my neck.

I could hear the birds and their incessant singing, the squirrels chattering to each other in the late morning. When the man thought we’d gone far enough, he unbuckled his pants, and I did the same. It was robotic, methodical. When he came to me, pushed me up against a tree so close that I could smell the cigar on his breath, I merely stared back at the man and waited for him to do what he liked. I could hide away in my mind. I could disappear, watch what happened from above, and know that it wasn’t me. It was simple, and I’d be alright. 

“You’re as tense as anything,” the man muttered. “Come on boy, where’s that slut you used to be at the castle? Surely you got something left in you. You can’t be fucking that prude of a girl dragging you about.” He fished into my trousers for my cock, and I hissed. I tried to focus on Skylar, on anything else, but all I could smell was cigar and horse and a man with vibrant yellow eyes staring down at me like a snake. He was good with his hands, too. As soon as he’d got my erection into the chill open air, he was stroking me with a twist of his wrist and watching me struggle to pretend I felt nothing. I wanted to feel nothing. I desperately wanted to. It’s what Skylar wanted, it’s what I wanted. It’s what I should have been. This was wrong. This was for the both of us, payment. Nothing more. I could just disappear.

But pinned against the tree, feeling the roughness of his hands, I couldn’t help it. 

Without a word, I tugged down the man’s trousers to his knees and took his cock in my hand. He was already growing, considerably bigger than mine, and hot. Achingly hot. I could feel the blush growing, the sanity dripping away, and the part of me that wanted to fight that off was silent.

Stroking as well as I could, I turned back to the man, gauging his reaction. He was staring at me, a piece of meat, the drool dripping down his jaw. Every twist on his beating cock elicited a grunt, a shudder, a moan. I was awkward, somewhat unused to this, but he liked it. He liked me. I could tell, when he stroked me until it hurt. I bucked into his hand at that, my cock already dripping with precum, the only lubrication he was using. Already close, panting and sweating, I was on a hair trigger. My hand was faltering, I was too focused on what he was doing to me. There was a whine at the back of my throat. I wanted to be touched. I needed it. This is exactly what I’d been craving. 

God, I don’t think I could disappear if I tried. 

The two of us pulled at each other, staring into each other’s eyes like animals until finally the man had enough and he drew back his hand like it had been plunged in hot coals. 

“Alright,” he muttered. “Drop your bloody trousers, boy. Turn around.” His breath came hot and heavy against my nape. I did as he asked. In an instant, his hands were wrapped around my waist, pressing me into the hard wood of the tree, and biting down so hard on my ear that I thought he’d tug it right off. But like a lover, he held me tightly, his legs wrapping in around mine in case I tried to escape, meat pressed up against my ass with the energetic frustration of an animal. I wasn’t going to run. I couldn’t even think of anything else. I could smell him, enveloped by him, overwhelmed by him. 

He muttered by my ear, and I shivered at how hungry his voice was. “Damn, I didn’t expect something like this. What happened to the fear, the prude?” 

“Just fuck me already,” I half hissed, and half whined. I could feel him, nearly there. So close. I ached. “Please.” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he snorted, and plunged into me without bothering to stretch.

The pain was incalculable. I thought I’d lost myself, consciousness dipping and for a second my vision darkened under the pressure and agony of being ripped apart. 

When I came back, he had stopped. Holding me up against a tree, he was gasping against my ear. It took me a moment to blink, and realize the mercy he’d done. He hadn’t gone any further. Shaking, desperate to move, he’d given me time. I almost had to laugh. A gentleman. Out of everyone else in the bloody Palace, he was the gentleman. 

“You alive?” He asked. 

I hung my head, clenched around him, and muttered into the tree. “Don’t stop.”

“Well, that’s a surprise,” he laughed breathlessly, and rammed himself back inside me. “Didn’t take you for a masochist.” I choked on my own tongue, barely holding in screams as he pounded into me, over and over. At first, I thought he was destroying me, going far beyond what I was capable of. But then I realized I hadn’t felt the sickly wetness of blood dripping down the insides of my thighs. He was being careful. Just careful enough that I didn’t rip from his cock, but still rough enough for him to get himself off. That’s what he wanted, to get himself off. Nothing else mattered. He didn’t particularly care if I did. That’s what I wanted to believe. Cum already dripping down my stomach from where I’d finished. I wanted to pretend that this was just a job, but that was a falsehood not even I could buy. 

His entire form enveloped me, his face pressed against my nape, his legs moving and bumping closer to capture me as he bent me down, further and further, until my face was squished against the bark and he was moving as fast as he safely could. I felt a hand grab my hair, then my shoulder, anything for leverage so he could use that ass everyone seemed to love. My nose scraped against the bark, my moans lost in the air. 

“Is this your problem, then?” He laughed, at the very edge of orgasm. “Is this why that girl won’t touch you? You can’t get it up with her, I bet. Can’t even enjoy yourself. Need something big to bugger your insides to jelly.” He pressed a hand against my stomach, and I felt his mouth grow into a leer against my neck. “If that a bulge I feel? Let’s get you back to her full of cum, what do you say?” 

I pressed my face harder into the bark, and said nothing. He heard my yes anyways, and he grinned, grabbing my waist and thrusting that hot, sickly meat once more back inside. He hilted with me, and he was done. I could feel the thin spurts of semen coating inside me, followed by the running down my thighs as he slowly pulled himself out with a series of colorful curses. He moved slowly, relishing the slow removal, appreciating how tight I must have been. He left behind a red ass, gaping and tensing as it pushed out gobs of semen. I could feel it burn, just like my cheeks as I kept my face hidden away in the tree and pretended that what had happened, hadn’t.

He looked down my front, and grinned a toothy smile when he saw how I’d ruined my blouse. I’d come twice, maybe three times. I’d lost count. My damned cock was spent, dripping with cum, untouched and yet almost stinging with over-stimulation. I could barely stand. All I could think about was how much I’d missed this. Whine about why we’d stopped. Desperately wanting to continue. 

“It’s been half an hour, boy.” He muttered by my ear with a grin. “Best not keep your girl waiting.” 

I swore under my breath and fumbled dressing as quickly as I could, but he stopped me there, moved my shaking hands away, and tied up my trousers with a faint chuckle. 

“You remind me of a boy I had in the Capital, once. Lad didn’t realize what men could even do. Young humans are like that, you know. I had him begging on his knees an hour later.”

I didn’t look him in the eyes, but he could see the blush plainly growing. He continued with a faint grin.

“That girl of yours would never be able to do what I did to you. I wonder if you’d want to come with me. Leave that human pet of yours behind.” 

I tensed. As quickly as the scene had come on, it had faded, and I realized what I’d done. 

My throat closed. My eyes were wide and staring, trying to comprehend how I’d acted. I could only shake my head, let the man clap me on the shoulder with a sigh, and lead me back. 

“Well, it was worth a try.”

Skylar took one look at me when we returned, and tears began to drip down those rosy cheeks. She’d obviously been running herself ragged thinking about me and what the carriage must have put me through. Then she was running to me and pulling me into her loving arms, her hands tenderly trying to fix my hair and my disheveled appearance. I must have been a mess, faraway eyes and stained shirt, clothes dirty and hair askew. I couldn’t seem to work my jaw properly. I wanted to tell her I was alright. I wanted to tell her we could go, that we could get to the Capital and forget this ever happened. I certainly wanted to forget what had happened, what I’d just felt, what I knew I’d be leaving behind. She’d told me about sin. She told me about how good it felt to people, and that’s why they continued to do it. 

I hadn’t realized just how good it could feel, when one went without for so long. 

“Quill,” she whimpered. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? Oh, Quill, you poor thing. Look at you. That was too long – you said fifteen minutes!” She turned on the man with a glare. But the driver merely shrugged, climbing onto the open-air seat and grabbing the reigns for his two tired horses. 

“Lad didn’t mind it.” 

Skylar turned back to me, took one look at my stained front, then quietly took my hand and led me into the worn carriage without another word.

She placed me among the apples, positioned our things on the other side, then tucked my own cloak around me. I watched her, still digesting the words, trying to say something, but when I opened my mouth she raised her hand for me to be silent. I flinched when she dropped that hand to stroke my cheek. 

“It’s alright, Quill,” she murmured as the carriage began to move. The apples jostled as we cleared the muddy field and headed out to the main road in front of the Palace. “You don’t have to explain yourself.” 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Shush,” she insisted. Her touch was so soft, so gentle. Every time her fingers touched me, my stomach twisted in knots. I wanted to open the door, and upend all of the breakfast I’d shoveled into my mouth so early in the morning. I had betrayed her. But she tenderly cleaned my hair, picking out bits of bark and leaves, pretended I wasn’t green, that I wasn’t shaking. “You rest. It will be a week or so before we get to the Capital. Give yourself time to heal.”

“I didn’t mean it,” I stammered. “I didn’t want to – I didn’t-”

“Nobles are fallible.” She smiled.

I stared at her, then quietly nodded, and fell back against my seat of apples. 

“They’re broken creatures,” she said, and placed herself up beside me, against the apples, working my cloak around herself as well as I. “They’re not meant to be good. You’re all descendants of monsters. It’s harder for you to break away from vice. And even harder when it’s all you’ve ever known.”

“I could have tried harder,” I muttered. “I could have tried to fight it. I could have tried to float away. That’s what I’d planned to do. That’s what I’d wanted to do. I didn’t – I didn’t want to like it.”

“You’ll never have to do it again,” she soothed. “We’ll be at the Capital before you know it. And then we’ll be able to start our new lives. You can become a scribe with all the knowledge you’ve gained, and I’ll work on sewing or some such. I have plenty of skills, I’m sure we’ll find something. We’ll have a wonderful little apartment in the trade district, and no one will ever bother us. And we’ll work in the same room every day, quietly going over our respective works, listening to each other scratching at a paper here or breaking a thread there.” I closed my eyes and listened to her. The world she painted in my mind was so calm, so beautiful, I could almost grasp it. We were on the way there. We were so close. It was tangible, right in front of me, and every turn of the carriage wheels brought us ever closer to that. This was the only thing that kept the guilt from eating away at me. This was what made me drift away. I couldn’t make myself leave that mind that had wanted that man so badly. No, it was Skylar’s sweet words, her voice, and her breath up against my ear as she began to fall asleep. That’s what made me disappear. Made me reach out and look for something greater. Because there was something greater right in front of me. 

No carriage driver in the world could pull me away from her. 

…..

The cart stopped in the middle of the night, and it was the lack of motion that woke me. At first, I’d thought we’d stopped at another town, or perhaps an inn to stay for the night. The darkness of the carriage told me it must have been around midnight. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. I had to feel around the bruised, wormy apples for the exit. It turned out, I didn’t have to. The carriage driver opened the door with a grin that gleamed in the moonlight, standing in front of a sea of low, massive buildings and a wide cobbled street. Over his shoulder, I could see it. A castle on a hill. Red banners fluttering in the summer breeze. 

We’d made it. 

“Well, boy, we’re here. I thought I’d make it through the night to get here a little earlier, but now I’ve got to find an inn to sleep at and a prostitute to warm my bed. So I’m kicking you out now. Get lost in the streets, and you two and I never met.” 

“We’re here?” Skylar blinked, sitting up with a withered apple still stuck to the side of her face. A moment later she was wide awake, beaming in the darkness. “We’re here!” 

“Thank you,” I muttered to the man as I grabbed our things and helped Skylar out of the carriage. A slight nod of the head was all I could give him. I couldn’t seem to meet the eyes that kept trying to lock with mine. My focus was on Skylar now, her trembling hands, the excitement that lit up her face.

“Thank you for the unforgettable time,” he laughed. “I’ll have to see if I can find a boy to measure up in the Capital. Probably will, you know. They have everything in the Capital.” 

I merely nodded, pretending not to hear the man laughter, or the invitation that still seemed to color all of his words. Skylar’s hand fell away from me as I turned my attention to the alien world in front of us, and finally took in where we were. 

He’d dropped us in the center of the factory district, one closes from the south entrance to the Capital. The Lord’s Kingdom was south of the Queen’s, so I supposed it made sense. I recognized the layout from description, the warehouses and the sprawling flat, wide buildings that seemed to stretch for miles. It was a maze of storage, but if my calculations were right, then the main road he’d dropped us on would lead us right into the heart of the Capital. And we were close too, it couldn’t have been that far off to the trade district from here. I could smell the faint spices of the trade district that my book on Capital geography had gone into detail about. I could see the tall lopsided buildings that dotted the main street of the Capital, in the distance. The man had done well, bringing us closer than he had to. I turned to thank the driver properly when I’d realized what he’d done for us, but he was already gone, his rickety carriage disappearing behind a brick building without another word, as though he’d never existed. 

“Well,” I sighed, stretching myself out and finding my unsteady feet on the cobbled stones after sitting for so long. “It looks like we should find a place to stay for the night to stay as well.” I closed my eyes for a moment, breathed in the chill night air, and beamed. 

We’d done it. We were out. 

“It’s so much warmer here,” I said thoughtfully. “Eternal summer, now that sounds like a dream. I’d love to see the ocean. I wonder what it’s like at the docks. Perhaps we could get some fish for dinner tomorrow.” 

Pain erupted from my chest. 

I looked down to see the hand gripping my side, tender and soft. The other had the knife buried in my back. Her breath was hot against my nape, calm, stable, not even the most minute drop of nervousness. Or guilt. 

Skylar threw me down onto the street. 

There was a hole. I could feel it. The wetness of blood soaking my blouse. The sloshing of a wound torn into flesh. Shock was starting to set in. I could feel it, numbing my fingers, those useless implements struggling to raise my cheeks from the gravel on the street. My tongue was tied, but even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have known what to say. 

It was so quiet, the way she struggled to untie the sack that contained the pounds from my belt. I tried to reach over, to stop her hand, but she slapped it away. 

“Don’t,” she growled. It echoed in the night. 

“Sky,” I choked. “Skylar.” My mind was in shambles. I kept trying to look at her, see her face. If I could just see her face. Then I could know this was a dream. This was simply a joke. There was no real malice, there couldn’t be. She’d simply made a mistake. We all made mistakes. It was my fault, probably. I shouldn’t have wanted the carriage driver. I shouldn’t have ever given my father an excuse to fuck me. I should never have kissed Lod. 

“Bloody hell, shut up.” She stood up to kick me in the groin before returning to her struggles. Finally, she cursed and opened the bag up instead of trying to untie the bag entirely, shoving pounds into the sack of books and rations. She kept looking back. I could see her shadow, she kept glancing over her shoulder, in all directions. 

“Skylar,” I coughed. “Skylar, please…” I kept stuttering. My tongue still refused to cooperate. All I could think about were questions. So many questions. So many pleas. Nothing I could tell her. My tongue didn’t want to work. I couldn’t seem to work. I never took the Capital for being so cold. I thought it was meant to be an eternal summer. But everything was so cold. I couldn’t seem to get warm. I wanted to curl up, bring Skylar with me, curl up and sleep. This road was a nice enough bed for the both of us. We just had to talk, we just have to have time. We hadn’t had enough time. I hadn’t had enough time. 

“Finally,” she grunted. She stood with the rucksack, then after a moment grabbed the cloak from over my shoulders. 

I grabbed her ankle. Creamy, rosy ankle. Now it was stained pink. There was so much blood. I hadn’t realized how far it had gone. It was wet under my face. The whole front of my clothes were going to be ruined. I’d never get it out, not with any washing. 

“Skylar,” I whimpered. She looked down at me, those beautiful clear eyes, those sweet pink cheeks, those wondrous brown curls. 

I tried to smile. 

“We have to get a hotel for the night, still,” I coughed. “How… How are we… How…” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence. 

“Get off of me.” Skylar narrowed her eyes, and kicked my hand off of her. “Don’t you dare touch me. Do me a favor, you bloody cunting slag of a noble. Just die. Just die like all of you should.” 

And then she was gone. 

It took a moment. 

It took several moments. 

It took what felt like hours before those tears welled up in my eyes, and I finally found it within me to cry. 

It took what felt like hours before I ripped my own shirt, tied it around the wound that had missed my lungs with fingers that were little more than stone, and started to crawl away. 

I didn’t know where I was going. 

I didn’t know what I was thinking.

I didn’t know why I kept trying. 

The tears wouldn’t stop falling, no matter how hard I wanted to stop. 

I kept looking over my shoulder, expecting to see Skylar, father, my cousins, to wake up, to have this all be some horrible nightmare. This had to be a nightmare. 

Skylar would be there when I woke up, holding me and telling me it would be alright. 

I’d wake up and my cousins would be there to wipe away the tears and tell me they’d find a way to put this all to rights. 

My father would find me crying in my room and tell me that it was all some horrible nightmare, some sick sign of puberty that I would get over, that he’d never touch me, that he loved me the way a father should, that he would be there for me, that he was proud of how far I’d come, that I’d make the perfect future. 

That I’d wake up and find out that I was still just a boy, about to jump in the pond, about to swim to the bottom with Lod. 

I’d wake up and my mother would stroke my cheek and ask me what terrible nightmare had made me cry so much, because she’d heard me cry and she’d run to me in an instant. She would never ignore my need for her, she’d tell me. She loved me too much. 

I’d wake up to being Hand for the past three years, with Lod and Jillian at my side, and we’d be cousins and nothing more, as thick as thieves, like brothers. True brothers. 

I’d wake up, and I’d be alone. Calmly alone. Able to take hold of myself, and know that I’d come up with some sick story that was far too outlandish to ever come true. 

I collapsed in a sobbing heap. The blood was coming too thick. I couldn’t see ahead anymore. The world was raining, perhaps. Everything was watery in my vision. Snot dripped from my nose, and when I tried to wipe it away all I could smell was that sickly metallic blood that wouldn’t stop. 

Then my knees collapsed. Then my arms. And then I knew I was going to die. Like Skylar wanted. 

Like Skylar had always wanted. 

The last thing I saw was a face. Some kind of angel, perhaps, a halo of black hair and blue eyes. I didn’t think I was worth it. There was too much in my body. All I’d ever done was sin. Just as Skylar had said.

Nobles never lose the monster hiding away inside them. Not even when they try, and not even when they die. 

There wasn’t a point to my life. 

I closed my eyes, and I let go. 

It was over.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thus the two begin to intersect.

MARGRET

She shouldn’t have been out at night. 

She should have been home right now, with whatever slave she’d want warming her bed. 

Or maybe she was running back from a brothel, unable to stay the night. 

Whatever the case, she was too easy. Wandering down the streets of the red light district with a hand on her purse and her eyes down and away from the sex on every street. Her blue locks were ruffled, streaked with black and tied in a loose knot that lay across her shoulders. A soft indigo cloak surrounded her, hugging her shoulders for comfort. The heat of summer would have been stifling. But this was a Duchess noble, straight from her corresponding palace, here for God knew what reason. The excessive blue on her person couldn’t have meant anything else. Nor could that behavior of hers, the way she tilted her head from side to side. Even in fear of the night, she didn’t seem truly there. Duchess nobles weren’t exactly a normal sort. 

She didn’t see the shadow following her behind, quickly blending into any nook and cranny the moment she turned her head. She was too green, too young, too stupid to realize just how dangerous the world could be. Close to my age, perhaps younger. It was difficult to distinguish even under the silver moonlight. 

She turned a corner, and I followed behind. 

The factory district. Interesting. She wasn’t heading for the inn. It was already late. The moon was high in the sky. She should have been running back as fast as her little legs could carry to her hotel, or even out for another drink. Yet she ran from people, into the unknown, where she’d be all the more vulnerable. She turned around again, and her eyes were wide and scared. She’d expected to see me there. I knew better. 

I bit back a laugh. Maybe she’d heard the rumors. There were monsters out there, things that bumped in the night and didn’t care about some taboo that might tell one not to kill. Since when was killing so important in a world of stagnation and debauchery? Murder made things happen. It caused progression. It was naught but the monster on the throne yelling obscenities and laws that made little sense. I’d love to tell her about my new reforms. Ones that included a knife through her black heart. 

Though I couldn’t, not really. There was an anxiety that every step gave her. She was just prey. To her, killing was a horror. Something talked about in bedtime stories, to scare children into behaving. She’d grown up on them, come to believe them. To her, they made perfect sense. The rape, the abuse, the elitism, that was normal. But murder? Never. I was a monster, and she was an innocent. Perhaps she could feel me. She could feel those hairs on the back of her neck stand up, the aura of a predator stalking her prey. 

She picked up her pace, and I struggled to keep up silently. 

I wanted to cough, to hack up more phlegm. The fatigue was getting to me. My hands grew colder and darker with every passing day. Now they were blue, white, and unable to unclench from that grip on the knife. Funny for a city in the middle of summer, just how chilled it could be. But then it could have been the sickness that hadn’t left me in ages. It seemed to settle into my very bones. Every breath was a struggle these days. This old body creaked with every motion, unable to hold itself up. Perhaps it was all the rats. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep. But I was no body anymore. I was just an idea, a ghost, a shadow, and I was to follow this little cunt until she let her guard down enough to rip her open. 

I bit back a laugh.

Even saying brought with it another wave of fatigue. Cutting things open required energy I didn’t seem to have. A lack of pain, that could keep me going for a while. But my body had begun to shut down. Eventually it would stop altogether. 

She turned another corner, and I followed in tune. 

So imagine my surprise when she seemed to disappear into the ether. 

I turned about, looking down one large warehouse street to another. Naught but a few moonlit traders, making illicit deals. Not much was bad enough to require the shroud of night, but the words that came out of their mouths made me want to switch prey. 

But I knew who I was to take down tonight. I had time. 

I tried the sides of the buildings, the alleys in between the lopsided brick and mortar, the places that I would think to hide, but I could seem to find decrepit cats and trash left to rot. There was no sign of my little creature. Then I turned a corner, and caught a Lord noble collapsed in the middle of the road. 

It struck me as odd. Maybe a year older, his body shaking, crawling as slow as a snail. In the silence of the night, I could hear his labored breathing, his whimpering pants. The deep pool of blood beneath him left a streak of silver in the moonlight. A victim of a stabbing. It led one to wonder who’d be mad enough to try. 

I raised my knife with that thought in mind, only to turn into the shadows again at the sound of footsteps approaching so quickly. 

It was a human, her hands stained red, walking away from her guilt as nonchalantly as she could. It was difficult to catch her expression in the shadows, but her eyes glimmered. Dull brown. Curls that seemed black under the light. A dress tattered and smelling of apples. The walk that had been a sprint, her eyes constantly glancing back over her shoulder. There was no hiding those bloody hands. She whispered to herself, little oaths and admittance she didn’t expect anyone to hear. I heard. 

“Stupid boy,” she hissed under breath as she glanced back at the body that still struggled to move. “Just die already. I told you to die. It’s better this way. Just go away, damnit. God, I can still feel him. Ugh, he had the most wretched smell… Why must all nobles have that smell?” A shudder ripped through her and she clenched her teeth, with haunted eyes looking ahead at the sound of those few nobles and their dealings. “Bloody hell,” she whispered. “I hate this place.” 

I froze.

She stopped then, pausing in the middle of the street and looking down at her hands for what seemed the first time. The blood had stained her dress too. She must have realized what she looked like by now. She couldn’t be out like this. 

My eyes widened when she found her hiding spot in front of mine. The shadows hid her well, and me better. But she’d blocked the only method of escape in this alcove meant for one. She stopped to breathe for a moment, and that’s when she must have realised the shock that had settled in her lungs. She wouldn’t be able to move now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off. She was no proper killer. What she’d done to that noble had taken it out of her. She was right here. Ripe for the culling. 

I held my breath to keep from coughing. 

She took out the knife that had done the deed, cleaned it against her rucksack, grimaced, and pocketed it again in the hidden sheath under her dress. 

“Alright, Sky. One more day. One more day and you’re home.” She closed her eyes. “One more day and you’re out of this hell. Just one more day. You can do one more day, right?” She chuckled to herself, cold. Familiar. I couldn’t help but listen, my neck stretched closer and closer until I had to hold my breath to keep from being heard. White, skeletal hands gripped at brick to keep myself steady. Knees little more than tumors on sticks held up a kite frame of skin stretched over bone. If she turned, she’d see me. I knew I’d not want to see me. 

I hid my dagger, and listened.

“You spent years, you can handle one more day. God, I bet that old town’s gone to the bloody dogs by now. What’s the point in going back? Full week of travel at least, anyway…” She used her rucksack as a pillow as she pulled her shawl into a blanket around her. “Everyone’s dead,” she muttered. “Everyone. There’s no point.” 

She sang to me. I’d never heard a voice so sweet. So beautifully charged. I wanted to fall. I wanted to listen. 

The grip on my knife loosened. 

“But you’re not. You sly one, Sky. You’re the reason you’re still alive. It’s all you and your prayer. And your ingenuity.” She smiled a crooked smile, not reaching her eyes. Those eyes glimmered in the shadow. Beautiful eyes. “Stupid noble. He’s better off dead, anyways. You shouldn’t even remember his name. Those colored heads were never much a fan of weaklings. You knew how his story was going to end.”

She soothed me, even if she were trying to convince herself. 

I almost lost my grip on the brick. I felt like sleeping. Right beside her, the two of us. A person that knew it was wrong. A person that fought back. She’d killed a man. She’d killed. She knew what that meant. She knew how they hated it, how they wanted nothing but vice, a curtain to split the world in two and hide in the better half. I’d only just met her, and I loved her. I would have promised the world to her. Perhaps killed her. 

I nearly missed those soft blue curls of the Duchess girl running off toward another district. She was right in front of me this whole time and I hadn’t noticed, her heels clicking towards the south of the castle. Had she gone into a warehouse? Under the silver light, she was white, hopping from foot to foot, holding her purse ever tighter and not able to keep it there for long before having to check that it was still there. This human didn’t even seem to notice her, but I did. I clenched my weapon tighter. I was going to miss her. 

I hissed. And here I was wanting to stay. 

The human jumped at the noise, only to bite back a scream when she saw what was hiding just behind her. Too late, she’d hidden the dagger back in her dress. Now it was impossible to reach in time. She’d have to lift her skirts again, unsheathe it, and by then my wicked blade would be in her chest. So instead she did nothing, waited for the inevitable.

I tenderly stroked her cheek with a hand scarred and broken and smiled from beneath my hood. She saw nothing, of course, but it wasn’t for her. 

“Let’s say we never met,” I said. 

“What are you?” She stuttered. 

“Don’t stay here. The guards will find you. Leave tonight. Force yourself to move.” Her eyes were wide as she watched me move, the hooded cloak fanning out behind me as I tore myself from the alcove. I jumped over her, and ran after that white rabbit. 

It was quieter down the edge of the factory district. Maybe a Wonderlander here and there, smoking a cigar and drinking a flask as they took in a drought of the night air, but largely abandoned. I hadn’t been here before, not this close to the Palace. South of that hulking monstrosity on that hill were largely abandoned gardens, the sky overhead covered in smog. If she kept running with those tiny little coltish legs, she’d find herself right there at the edge of the world, overlooking an ocean that would be too easy to jump in. Was that where she was heading, so nervous and worried? What was in that purse of hers? It was bigger than most. She pulled at her cloak, tripped over broken glass, and held that colorful sack ever closer. She was afraid of breaking something in that, or perhaps of losing it. It was important to her.

That trip had her slowed down. I could nearly catch up. She was struggling to keep together, trying to speed up past abandoned buildings that became smaller and further apart, past lime green trees with black bark and fields of twisted flowers long dead. 

She turned around and saw me. 

I ran for her. 

She screamed, backing up for a few seconds, then turned to sprint as fast as those little legs could take her. I cursed myself. She was faster than me. Healthier. More alive. 

She raced passed benches overturned ages ago, abandoned gardens, flowerbeds black and unused. Past orchards of shriveled apples, peaches and oranges. The trees grew thicker with overgrowth. Disuse had made this part of the Capital wild. Black and green. It felt vaguely familiar. So close to the palace, and yet this place smelled of must and death. 

She stopped in front of an old shed, wooden door barely on its hinges, turned, and froze.

I had the knife out from behind my cloak and arched towards her, panting and heaving each breath Here she was. My prey, shaking, eyes glinting with fear in the light of the moon. She was no human, not like that little treasure, not capable of murder. She probably thought this world was perfect for her. Everything she could have wanted. Did she spend money at the trade district, buying exotic animals only to let them die off when they went out of style? Did she buy textiles she knew were stolen from the south just to get them hemmed in at the tailor’s? Did she retain innocence, or was it taken from her? Did she sleep with men for the power she couldn’t get enough of? Was she as blind as she looked? 

I ran at her. 

I was duped. 

She turned away, at the last moment. My eyes widened, my breath caught in my throat, my fist reached out to try and stop my fall, but my legs wouldn’t listen as they pushed through those rotten doors. 

I went headlong through that shed, and kept falling. 

I couldn’t see anything, at first. It was a darkness I couldn’t understand. The kind so black, your hands stopped existing. I knew there had to be walls, somewhere, but none that I could touch. I could smell mildew, darkness, and feel the air of flight. Of falling. I couldn’t seem to stop falling. I couldn’t catch my breath, my ears were buffeted by wind. 

I realized then, that there wasn’t going to be an end here. Not a good one. At some point, I was going to reach the bottom. The stale air would stop. The ground would rush up to meet me. I stared into the darkness and I knew. I was going to die. I was going to end, and no one would ever know what had happened to me. The murders would simply stop. I’d never plunge a dagger through Asentual’s rotten heart. 

I sighed, and closed my eyes. If that human knew, then perhaps I wasn’t alone. Perhaps I wouldn’t die alone. 

I didn’t land. Nor properly. At first I felt the wall, reached out only for the friction to tear at skin. Then the slope began to flatten, slowly. It reached out to meet me, and that’s when I started rolling, hissing and swearing like a sailor as I struggled to stop. The speed at which I tumbled made it impossible to gather myself. I tore the dagger out, tried to use that to catch something, a root perhaps, anything, but I only managed to cut and rip my own hands. My heart beat out of my chest as I felt the incline turn, getting towards what I was certain had to be an edge. Time was running out. I reached out again, desperately stabbing, my knees buckling under me, my shoulders aching from what little strength I had, but then I felt it.

My chest heaved when the dagger caught on stone. The rough blade was buried in the packed earth, my heels dug into the edge of this bottomless pit. Behind me, I could hear the gravel as it loosened and fell over the side. And kept falling. The sheer drop continued down. I was barely holding on. My shoulder felt like it had been pulled out of the socket. I held my breath. 

I was alive. 

I let out a breath of relief.

That was when the ledge beneath me began to crumble. 

I tore my dagger out of the wall and started running blindly. My free hand was on the sloped wall, feeling for gravel and stone and support and some kind of path, but I wasn’t fast enough. The ground beneath me was shuddering, disappearing under my heels as I pulled my legs up the subterranean cave. The entire floor beneath me was being taken down into the depths. Every step sunk beneath me. Panting, I tried to move faster, but my legs wouldn’t agree with me. They locked up, refused to work for me, and my breath had long since left me. I had to fall, until I was little more than crawling to get away from the landfall. I was certain that I was about to be taken with it. I could feel it disappearing under my hands, my knees unmoving, only my arms managing to drag me away. Swearing, screaming, begging under my breath between every aching gasp, I finally touched something that didn’t feel like earth. 

The wooden ledge dug into side of a rock face. I pulled myself up as the world around me trembled, held my breath, and only released it when I stopped hearing the sounds of falling stone. 

The world fell silent. 

I sighed, rubbed my face, and coughed up phlegm. 

The fatigue had settled in my legs. I couldn’t feel the scraps that had rubbed the flesh raw, nor the deep gouges that sharp stones had left. But they wouldn’t move. 

Panic settled in my lungs. 

I scraped at my useless legs, slapped them, hit them, and breathed out a sigh of relief when I could feel the faint chill of stale air touch them. They were still there. I could still feel them, barely. 

I had to get up. 

Slowly, holding onto what I thought was a wall for support, I found my footing. But then my hands touched wood, and I furrowed my brows. I scraped my fingernails against it, feeling the strange whorled planks, and then came into contact with a cold, round sphere of metal that turned when I tried it. It stopped halfway, and then wouldn’t budge. I tried turning it a few more times, but it refused.

The wood smelled rotten. It couldn’t have been that hard to break. I glanced back into the dark, looking for even the tiniest sliver of light, but there was nothing. Nowhere else to go, and my feet couldn’t seem to find another ledge. I don’t think I would have had the strength to climb back up if I tried. 

I supposed there was only one course of action. 

I reared back, then slammed into the door with my shoulder. It shivered under the attack, but stood firm. 

I held my breath, stood back to the very edge of the wooden ledge, then slammed into it a second time. 

That was when it buckled, splintered, then broke. I went somersaulting through, my teeth tearing into my tongue as blood soaked the inside of my mouth. Coughing and out of breath, I looked up in surprise to the dim torchlight that took my eyes to a moment to adjust to. A brazier marked the entrance, burning low with little more than coals. But it was light. I could see my hands again. I was covered in dust. 

Beyond this small source of light, I wasn’t sure. It didn’t look like there were anymore past this entrance, and beyond that multiple tunnels seemed to extend into the earth. They’d been carved out, claws gouged deep into the earth with footprints in the dirt that could have been a couple days ago, or centuries.

The air was stale. 

I coughed as I gathered myself up and tugged the cloak firmly around myself. My knees were unsteady as I took a few steps forward. I found myself grabbing the wall of the cave again. I looked at the walls and the ceiling, gauging the chances of a cave in, but I doubted I was in my right mind to judge. Damn it, it didn’t matter. There wasn’t another option. 

I could barely think. Every time I tried to look ahead, my vision seemed to tunnel. I couldn’t seem to get more than a few feet ahead before my legs stopped working and I fell back into the sandy earth.

As the particles floated around me, I coughed again, hacked up blood, and felt something in my neck crack. 

I wiped my mouth, then listened. 

The sound of voices. Whispers at most, but they were there. It was though they were built into the very walls. They echoed as I forced myself to continue. Perhaps they were water droplets from further back, but it didn’t matter. It was noise I could track. There was something there. Something to hold onto. 

I gritted my teeth, and pressed forward. 

Another brazier appeared when I turned a corner. This one had burned out, caked in dust, and must have been untouched for years. I passed it without a word.

The tunnel dipped lower. I knew I should have been going up. I should have been looking for a way out, following the light that proved I wasn’t alone down here. But the voices chilled my heart. They called to me. I had to see them. Their words were amorphous, beautiful, and old. Every thrum, every consonant burrowed into the caked earth of the tunnels, every vowel dripped from the ceilings and landed below. I found myself lighter than I ever had been. Those legs found themselves under me, firm and steady sticks. I couldn’t feel the chill any longer. The cloak around my shoulders was a shield from the elements. My hair, oiled and tangled and caked with grim, flowed from my shoulders like silk. And my mouth that had been so dry, watered in anticipation. 

The tunnel stretched on into the darkness. I closed my eyes. There didn’t seem to be a point in straining them when there was nothing to see, so I touched the old stoned walls and I felt along them as I approached something ancient. Something whispering, pleading in the dark. Something that thrummed the walls of the cave, as if searching for a way out. I could almost make out the words, but just as I grasped them, they floated away once more. 

When the noise was at its peak, I felt a door. 

This one wasn’t wet or rotting, it was dust. The wood felt like stone under my hands. It was small, unnaturally so. I stooped as I tried to unlock the knob with my fingernails, but digging into the keyhole was hopeless. So I smashed at it with my shoulder. Huffing, I reared back as I had before, then slammed into it. But it did what I’d expected, and remained firm. When I hit, it didn’t buckle like wood. It was stone. Whatever it had been before, all that had remained of this door had petrified in however many years it had stood here. 

The whispers had stopped. 

I cursed under my breath, kicking at the air, but paused when I felt something connect with my shoe. The sound of glass connecting with stone had me down on my knees, scouring for the thing. My dagger clinked against it, and I snapped up that bottle. 

When I stood up, I felt for the lid, and found a cork at the top that required wedging it out with the flat end of my blade to get it out. When it popped, I tilted the bottle out in my hand. 

I grasped a small piece of metal in my hands and felt the exquisite detail. It was so delicate, so small and intricate. I could see nothing, but I could feel the curves, the flourishes, and the teeth of the key. With a fevered grin, I turned back to that door, twisted the tiny thing into the lock, and felt my heart drop when the door began to buckle as I pushed it slowly open. 

There was light here. Very faint, coming from a cave-in near the ceiling. It floated down for a mile before it touched the ground. 

The cavern was a world. It was larger than anything I had ever seen before. It seemed impossible, how far it stretched, how difficult it was to see the other side through sheer distance. The ceiling was a sky of stalactites, dripping water from the streams of groundwater that found their way here. 

But it was what this cave held that took my breath away.

I saw the garden. The one we’d always learned about. The fountains that had flowed with life, the flowers that had held unimaginable color. The trees that had stood impossibly tall. The blue bonnets, the tiger lilies, the dandy lions, the irises, thistles, daisies. The caterpillar. The white rabbit. The checkered grass. The picnic tables, where the hatter and the march hare and the mouse had discussed things a child couldn’t understand. The stories we’d gone to sleep with. My father. My mother. The hope they’d gave with something so unreal, untrue. A legend that had turned to religion. A wish. A philosophy. The thought that there was still a chance, somewhere, deep enough, that these things still existed there somewhere. 

It was petrified. 

The world around me was silent. Grey. Still. Every flower was a statue of stone, locked in perfect silence. The trees were pillars that held up the garden, the leaves long since gone, turned to skeletal sentinels. The ground was dusty earth, full of nothing but death. A patchwork quilt of long and short grass stuck in an eternal breeze that would never move. 

The statues of animals that had once stood out as stone beauties were now just one of many. Everything was cold, grey, and still. Dead. All of it was dead. The heart of Wonderland was turned to stone. 

I took a few steps forward, and my knees buckled. I felt in front of a rose, it’s petals dripping with water from a stalactite that hung above it. Minerals had collected on the delicate piece, turning it into a twisted version of what it had once been. Half of it lay uncovered, but a few hundred years, and it would be eaten up by natural stone formation. Half of the garden already was. All of it was twisted apart, broken, befuddled. Wonderland was burying it, drip by drip, into nothing more than a memory. 

Wonderland was dead. 

It had been alive once. It had been a story once. Alice had lived, once. And now it was dead. It was dead, and it was never coming back. 

This whole time, I’d been right. Right beneath our noses, the world was decaying and falling away to nothing. We’d been ignoring it this whole time, thinking that it never existed. That the world had always been this way. The royals always had our thoughts in their hearts, our lives to consider. Listen to them, my tutors would say. We were safe here, my father would say. We were happy here, my mother would chime in. There were pastries here, my brother told me. There wasn’t any point in asking questions, said Sylvie. They didn’t see how mad this world had become. What we had done to ourselves. They couldn’t feel that insanity calling to them just below the surface, beckoning them closer, telling them just how normal it was to feel this way. 

It was right here. If I could just bring it up to them, show them what they’d done, if I could just thrust it in their faces and make them see, then maybe… 

No. There was nothing left. You couldn’t change stone to grass. You couldn’t bring things back to life. 

You could only kill. 

I choke out sobs that reverberated throughout the cave system. It mingled with the soft dripping of the water that created the echoes of whispers. It was just water. There was nothing mystical here. There was nothing to find, nothing to explore, no adventure to find. Not in this dead world. Not with Alice gone, not with a world that knew it was dying, and had been living a half life ever since. 

Alice was dead. Wonderland should have died with it. 

A yellow glow lit up the skeletal remains of the garden in front of me. I froze when it stained my eyes, looked up, then turned to see the lantern’s cheery light blind me. I hissed as I brandished my dagger, and tried to take a step forward. It was right in front of me, calling out to me like some kind of false god, the holder’s hand outstretched and hidden in the glow. But then my knees failed again, and I fell into the grasp of someone that smelled like cinnamon. 

“Who are you, child?” The voice asked me. Strong, warm hands gripped me. In a haze, I looked up, trying to see through the lantern’s light, reaching out to run a hand through red hair. He pulled my hood off, but then those hands paused in wonder. 

“What…” I choked. The tears made the world look like a kaleidoscope of color. My father. It was my father. How could he. How could he come when I’d needed him so often before. Why now. 

In a desperate attempt to knife the figure, I only managed to nick my own hand. He was too strong. I couldn’t feel my legs. He held up the cold claw that gripped the dagger so tightly, and he clicked his tongue. 

“What’s this?” He asked, already knowing the answer. He just wanted me to admit it. I growled. I tried to pull away, and he let me go without a hassle. But I fell back into the dust, glaring up at him and trying to distinguish the features on a man that looked so much like my father. A Queen noble, with cropped hair and a beard several inches long. He held the lantern up to his worried face, peering down at me with dark green eyes I wanted to pluck out with my blade. I held up the purple dagger in warning as he took a step closer. 

“Don’t!” I barked. “Back off!”

“I would never have imagined finding a Queen noble down here, of all things. What happened to you, dear?” 

I pulled my hood hastily back, but it was too late. He’d seen my face. I could feel the twisting in my stomach. I wanted to plunge my dagger into it bloody neck, but I couldn’t seem to find the strength to stand. I could only watch as he held his lantern up to the stone world around us, gazing with a expression that told me he had seen it all before. He smiled sadly, pulled his cloak tighter around himself, and sighed. 

“Sad, isn’t it?” he said. He looked down at me, as if expecting an answer. 

I spat at his feet. 

He held out a hand. 

“I can lead you out of here,” he said. “If you like.”

“Don’t touch me.” 

“I don’t think you’re going anywhere in a state like that. Not even magic can hide what state you’re in. That cloak of yours did much, but it can’t save you. You can’t even stand.” 

“I’ll kill you,” I hissed.

“I don’t doubt it. The murderous shadow of the Capital, the creature that preys on humans and nobility alike, killing indiscriminately? You would, if you could. But I don’t think you can.” He smiled when I didn’t say anything. I was too busy shaking from under my hood, haunted eyes trying to discern what he intended to do with me. He knew. Of course he knew. Damnit, he couldn’t know. He’d tell the Queen. If he could just get a little closer, within arms reach, maybe I could kill him. Maybe I could open up that face that seemed too pleasant. How dare he try to emulate my father. He was a monster, wearing his skin. A sickening bastard. He saw everything just behind me, and he didn’t even bat an eye. He was worse than all of them. 

“Wonderland is dead,” I muttered. 

“It’s alive above our heads,” he said.

“It’s around us now. It’s dead. And you should be dead, too. We should all die. No one sees the truth. No one understands the reality.” 

“My dear,” he said softly. He crouched down across from me. I’d still have to crawl to get to him. There was no way I could reach him in time, he’d just get up and run, go screaming off to tell someone who I was. “I can tell you now, that many do.” 

“No, they don’t.”

“I’m looking at it, aren’t I?” He asked. I glared at him.

“You act like it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. I can see what the truth is right here, staring us in the face. It’s a manifesto of lies. The Queen lied, the rest of the Royals lied, and they continue to lie. They tell us of progression, of a world where vice can reign unhindered without repercussions. But this is evidence of the contrary, is it not? Is that what you think?” I held my tongue. “Well, my dear, I can tell you this much. Alice died, one day. One day, long, long ago. And this world is dead without her. It’s up to the Royals to pick up the pieces and try to keep everything together. And they’ve failed. But of course, a job like that was meant to fail. In a world based on a child’s logic, where madness abounds and a world hinges on the mind of a girl, it was known for hundreds of years that the Royals would eventually lose themselves. An immortal life is not a life that can persist untouched by Wonderland madness. Especially not if their world is rotting away from the inside.” 

“Who are you?” I tried to stand up, but the man stood with me. I took one step forward in his direction with the knife clutched tightly. He stepped back as the lantern jilted with movement. 

“Alexander,” the man bowed. I took another step forward, and he went out into the hall. “Man of a profession long since forgotten. These catacombs are all that is left of the old Wonderland, the Wonderland that was before. I suppose there’s the forest, the cat, but then… Something so carnivorous isn’t representative of the old world.”

“You must know how useless all of this is then,” I muttered. “You have to realize there’s no point into clutching your pearls of the past, rubbing them between your fingers and pretending they can comfort you. Your precious Wonderland is gone. It’s right in front of you.” 

“We do not cling to the past, my dear,” he said warmly. “We listen to it, and look to the future as informed as we can be.”

“You’re delusional.” I gripped the edge of the wall as I struggled to follow him. He smiled, took another step back, and waved his lantern towards the upward slope of another tunnel. 

“This is the way out. You follow this, and you’ll end up in a residential district to the north of the palace. It’s a long walk. You should rest first.” 

“Answer me, old man.” 

“You haven’t asked a question.” 

“Why don’t you care?” 

His smile faded. “We do.”

“You don’t look it.” 

“We pour over the past to learn the way to solve the future.” When I took another step in his direction and away from his so-called exit, he hopped over to the tunnel he pointed out and forced me to follow his damned directions. The quick sure-footed step made my eye twitch. I’d never be able to keep up with him if he ran. 

“Pitiful,” I hissed. I’d have to keep him distracted, if I had any hope of killing him before he ran off to tell the Queen. 

“I suppose. We have nothing else. But the scrolls of those long before us instruct us in ways that the Queen would never tolerate.” 

I paused. 

“Interesting, isn’t it? How the original scribes of Alice and her disciples have been lost to history. How those original meetings with hands Right and Left seem mysteriously absent from every textbook and library. But then, I suppose you wouldn’t know anything about those. No one does. And no one asks questions. Thus, we never receive many visitors, here. But they exist deep within the rabbit hole. We are their keepers. And we see a future within them.” 

“There is no future.” 

“There is another Alice.” The tunnel was silent. He stared at me. I stared back. His expression was blank, but he tilted the lantern back and forth like a child as he waited for me to say something. 

I couldn’t seem to find any words. 

“I can not see your face, but I wonder if you are curious.” 

“You’re mad,” I muttered, and rubbed my eyes of the overly bright light. “You’re just some old man living at the bottom of a hole. Hiding, I suppose. I would too, if I could. But then I’m not a coward like you are. Putting your stock into stupid books that probably don’t even exist.” 

“It’s up to you to decide for yourself. But we will be here when you need us again, Margret. It is written there in the story. Bide your time, and the page will turn. All it will take is for you to see through the looking glass.”

“Wait,” I paused. “What are you talking about? How do you my name– how –“ 

He brought lantern right up at my eyes. I froze at the heat and blinding light, rubbing my eyes to try to catch the man, swearing under my breath and reaching out to grasp him, but in the split second I had my eyes open again, the light was gone. 

I was doused in darkness once again. 

Five minutes of crawling up the tunnel, I had myself convinced that man was mad. Another ten, and I was convinced he’d never existed at all. By the time I saw the crooked light of dawn through a wall that had been cemented over decades ago, the only thing I seemed to know hadn’t been a lie, was that world. 

Wonderland was dead. It was never coming back. Regardless of what we tried, what I did, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. 

I lived in a rotting corpse, with the only life being the squirming maggots that desperately searched for their next meal. When I stepped out into open air, I let my body fall into the stone cobbles. I dipped my head down, closed my eyes, and began to weep at a funeral no one had ever bothered to hold.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muse: both https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dfuxi61L27w and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UkxQ69mngNs

QUILL

If this was heaven, it smelled a lot like sex. But then, I supposed I couldn’t have known. It was too dark to tell. In and out, my mind seemed to wander. At some points, I could almost discern a face amongst the black. Other times, I could only see darkness and smell that sweet, sickly scent of something in heart of passion. And then other times I would vividly dream of things I knew couldn’t exist. But maybe they did here. Maybe there truly was a cat that stared out from the forest with blood in his eyes, daring me to come closer as his furless body stretched and convulsed, worms crawling beneath it. His maw would open slowly, wider and wider, with nothing but inky darkness inside it. And then the ground would rise beneath me, the air would knock itself out of my lungs, and I’d be falling faster and faster with no possible end in sight. I’d hear a woman screaming, swearing at the top of her lungs, and I’d call out to her, ask her where we were and what the bloody hell was going on. She wouldn’t respond, and I supposed I shouldn’t have expected her to. Wherever we were couldn’t have been real. I couldn’t see anything, nothing but the insides of my own eyelids. Just when I was certain we were about to hit the bottom, I’d find myself on the shore of an ocean, breathing in something that smelled less like the waves and more like fire.

It seemed to burn away at my lungs. But I couldn’t get away from the coast line. My legs didn’t work. I looked down, and they were covered in sand. No matter how much I tried to dig it up, the sand kept piling back in. It was as if I was doing nothing. Small crabs dug themselves out of the shore beside me and began to amass upon my waist. I began to scream as their claws dug in. They centered in on my back, digging, biting, do anything they could to burrow inside me, and I could never quite reach them to pull them off. A bird of prey circled overhead and hit the sun. The shadow it cast made the buggers even more enthusiastic than before. As soon as I managed to reach one, there would be another to replace it. They wouldn’t stop. The shore began to quiver and shake, and suddenly a creature that wasn’t crab erupted out of the shore with a roar. A slimy, bulbous thing larger than a horse was desperately arching its twisting, squelching self out of the sand. Strange, stick legs pointed on either side of the hideous monstrosity. Rolls of fat were encapsulated in a dark grey body that tinted green in the sun. When it turned its head to me, my voice left me. I found I couldn’t scream anymore. 

The face of my father bore down on me with glinting, golden eyes. He smiled, and suddenly he was Skylar. In his mouth framed by silken curls, Jillian and Lod screamed soundlessly with contorted mouths. 

He ate me alive. 

I gulped in harsh draughts of air when my eyes opened onto the wooden ceiling above me. The blur in my eyes made the light strange. I tired to sit up, tried to rub off those crabs and feel for the their bodies that dug painfully into my back, but a hand stopped me. 

“Don’t!” Someone demanded. In my mind, I could still see the monster making me suffer. It was impossible to tell.

I hissed. I swatted it away, but then more joined the first, gripping me tightly. I was pinned, shaking and unable to move. I felt like crying. Everything burned, the air itself dragging spines through my lungs. I wheezed, but it was no use. I couldn’t move. 

Too late, I realized how real these hands felt. Soft. They were joined by unfamiliar voices, and blurry images of faces above me that didn’t look much like my father. 

My heart beat out of my chest, my muscles relaxing slowly as I forced myself calm down. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t the palace. The face framed by black was whispering something to the others that I couldn’t quite catch. There was some kind of sound behind them, something constant and unyielding. I tried to squint, to look at any of them and find those curls. Skylar and I were supposed to be going to the Capital today, weren’t we? Had I slept in? Had someone taken her without me? Who had made it into my room? 

“I need to- I need to find Skylar,” I mumbled. “Where’s Skylar?” My voice was tumultuous in my head, but it couldn’t have been more than a whisper. I winced at reverberations of sound. The hand that had its firm grip on my arm tentatively drew the hair back from my head. When it left, I realized how much sweat had collected on my brow. 

“What’s going on?” I grunted. I blinked several time, trying to get that blur out of my eyes, and the source of light in the room became a lantern instead of a disembodied yellow sphere. I blinked again, and a black haired-human girl stroked my forehead. Her grey eyes shone in the light of the cheery lamp. Between her, there were two others, their faces concerned, even fearful. Women, one much older and one little more than a child. Behind us, I could finally pick up that sound. The screams of rape and sex, the sound of laughter, the grunts of a job just about finished. It was all too familiar. 

I furrowed my brows. 

“How are you feeling?” The black haired girl asked. “Are you alright?” 

“It hurts…” I muttered. “My back… The crabs… None of this makes any sense.” I wasn’t in the palace, Skylar wasn’t here, and I couldn’t seem to remember how I found my way here. 

“He’s still delirious,” the girl said. She tugged on the young woman’s sleeve. “You should make him sleep more. He’ll make too much noise otherwise, and we’ll get caught.” 

“Sleep any longer and he might die.” The elderly one drew back the young one’s hair. “He should have died after a week. As it is, the boy’s weak. He’ll be needing food and drink.” She sniffed. “He’ll waste our food. Redmund won’t be happy.” 

“Ignore those wenches,” the black-haired girl said with a smile. She put her hand in mine and gave it a squeeze. “Your back, right? That’s the wound you’re feeling. A nasty thing, that. It’s going to hurt a lot, but we’ve done what we can for it. All packed with cotton, changed often, and it’s been stitched up a bit. Looks like it’s alright, last I checked. It’s not infected anymore, I don’t think. If it is, the worst is over. But we were worried for a tad. The things you were saying were pretty strange.”

At first her words didn’t signify. “Wound…” I frowned. Seconds ticked by as I tried to look for something that was a shadow in my mind. Everything seemed so murky, wading through it was full of effort. The last thing I remembered was our plans… No, the carriage, I could never forget the carriage. And then we’d… We’d arrived at the Capital. It took moments for me to realize. 

I gripped her hand like a vice as I struggled not to scream. 

“Woah there,” she said as she winced. “It’s alright, you’re fine now, don’t you go crying on me. What is it with men and their tears? Right after a good fuck, and now it’s right after a long sleep? You just got stabbed, laddy, nothing too bad. Must have been rough, but you’re fine now. You just shouldn’t be going around getting yourself caught up with the wrong crowd unless you fancy making yourself full of holes.” 

I shook my head. The lump in my throat made it hard to speak. That had actually happened. She’d actually – that wasn’t a dream. It was real. As real as the pain in my back. “I did… I didn’t…” 

“What’s that?” 

“I didn’t get…” I shook my head. “It wasn’t… God, I’m so stupid…” I dipped my head, and for the first time saw the rest of my body. I’d been put in a cot, topped with ragged blankets, and left in what I could only describe as a cellar. Wooden, barrels stacked at the back, with a couple of beds and an unlit fireplace in the corner. But it was cheerily lit, everything clean and well swept. It still smelled and sounded like sex. But that wasn’t what filled my head right now. 

It was the knowledge of what I’d done. What I’d been duped into. I couldn’t even fathom, couldn’t even sort through the information whirling around in my mind. I couldn’t even think her name. What she’d done, what I’d gone along with, all of it… I didn’t know what to think. What to feel. I’d been… I’d been betrayed, I knew that much. A part of me was looking for problems I’d created, reasons she might have felt like she had to do that. But I couldn’t think of any. Had the carriage driver made her think I was disgusting? Had I said something off to her to make her feel like I wasn’t trustworthy? No, that didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t logical. It wasn’t right. But she’d… 

New tears gathered and fell.

“Well, getting stabbed in the factory district is quite stupid,” the young woman drawled on. “It’s a right good thing I was out trying to get Mary some clementines for the babs. Middle of the night, mark me. She still owes me for that.” I stared at her uncomprehendingly. 

“You look hungry,” She mussed, and nudged the younger girl who gaped open-mouthed at me. “Get him some porridge, go on, off with you.” The girl seemed thankful to be gone, closing her jaw and rushing out the door. For the split second it opened, the cacophony of moans was almost earsplitting. “I suppose you’re confused right now,” she continued. “You’re in Redmunds. It’s a brothel, right at the edge of the Red Light district. That ring a bell?” 

“I’m not from the Capital.” I rubbed my throat. It had never felt so dry. My lips were chapped. I couldn’t close my eyes, tired as I was. If I did, I knew exactly who I would see. I couldn’t. Even her words barely registered.

“Alright then, that complicates things. Well, you’re in the north west of the Capital, little above Queen’s street. I found you in the factory district, do you remember that?”

I tried to remember without seeing her face. It was impossible. In the same moment I knew I had been in that district, I could remember the feeling of a blade in my back, right by my spine. The world exploding in stars, the shock, the tunneled vision. I’d nearly died. She’d tried to kill me. I could remember her lips moving, but not what she said. I didn’t want to remember. 

I gave a very slow nod after a moment. “There was an… angel?” I though I’d caught myself, but it just slipped out. 

The girl laughed and playfully slapped my knee, then rubbed it when I flinched. “Oh, you’re a sweetheart. No, love, I’m a slut for Redmund, same as all of us. Ain’t that right, Angie?” She tilted her head over at the elderly woman. The human frowned, wrinkles increasing around her mouth as her beady black eyes took me in for a second before turning away with crossed arms. 

“Still think you should have left him to die.” 

“Couldn’t just do something like that, Ang,” the girl crooned. “This one’s a Lord noble, you know how they’re like. Bleeding hearts – oh, no pun intended sweetheart.” She smiled at me. “But you know how you lot are. Not much of a backbone. No harm in helping out someone like that. Helping out a noble like that can only bring good fortune. Besides, you look pretty thoroughbred. What kind of noble are ye anyways?” 

“The son of the Right Hand,” I mumbled. My mind was still on other things. I was safe, I tried to remind myself. I wasn’t dead. No matter how many times I told myself that, I could still remember how she’d just left me. Just broke me. Like a toy she didn’t need anymore. I was so stupid. It was my fault. It had to be my fault. I had to have done something wrong. 

The elderly woman’s eyes bulged, but the girl leaned in closer with renewed curiosity. “You’re kidding.” 

“I wish I was,” I muttered. 

“Well!” She leaned back and clapped her hands together. “That settles it. Then you can help us. Help me, specifically.” 

“Help you with what?” 

“I need to get a message to my little sister, and I only know that she’s in the palace. Dunno what for, but we got separated a couple years back when I was brought here and she was brought all the way up that hill.” 

I finally tuned into what she was saying, and frowned. 

“I wish I could help,” I muttered. “But I think you saved the wrong Lord noble.” 

“How do you figure?” 

“I ran away. If I show up at that palace, I’ll be forked right back over to the Lord palace. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.” 

“Is that what got you stabbed in the factory district?” The girl asked curiously. She moved closer. I saw her hand reach for mine, and something caught in my mind. Before I knew what I was doing, I was grabbing her hand, my throat closing up as I threw it back. My heart beat out of my chest. I couldn’t quite see her for a moment. When I did, she was clutching her hand, a look of hurt crossing her face as she scooted away from me. 

“Sorry,” I said quickly, trying very hard to remind myself that not every human was capable of murder. At least, I didn’t think so. She’d brought me here. She had to be good. And I’d just harmed her. I tried to sit up, but the pain kept me back. The elder woman glared at me as she pulled the girl into her arms to take a look at the fingers I’d squashed in my grip. 

“Careful with humans,” the older woman hissed. She rubbed the girl’s fingers tenderly. “You don’t know how much strength you nobles are capable of.” 

“I didn’t – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” 

“It’s alright,” the girl smiled hesitantly. “I don’t think you did. Hey, that porridge is taking a while,” she said to the elder woman. “Why don’t you go see what’s taking Winnie so long, will you, love?” 

“And leave you alone with a noble?” 

“I’ve been left alone with nobles countless times.” The girl stuck out her tongue at the woman. “Go on. Someone might be calling for you, you never know.” 

With one last glare at me, the older woman slowly rose from her stool, her rags dragging along the floor as she reluctantly left the cramped little room. When she closed the door behind her, the girl let out the little gasp of pain she’d been holding onto. She wriggled her fingers gently in the air, then warmed them in her other hand. 

“Worse than getting them caught in a door,” she sighed. “You got a mighty good grip, you do.” 

“Sorry,” I winced. “I honestly didn’t mean it. You saved me, I appreciate it, I shouldn’t be… Reacting like that.” 

“You have the look of someone that doesn’t want to be touched.” 

“What kind of look is that?” 

“Rape.” 

I felt like I’d been ripped asunder. She smiled sympathetically. 

“Sorry, but sensitivity isn’t my strong suit. See, what I thought happened was a roaming band of those rogues that search out the wayward noble found you. You know about those at least, right?” 

“No.”

“Well, nevermind that, because you’re not even from the Capital. So I’m guessing it was whatever happened at the Palace. I won’t pretend to know what life is like there, but you have that look in your eyes. Haunted. Something happened. You’re running from a devil, aren’t you?” 

With golden eyes. I nodded.

“And you got caught here?

“What?”

“How’d you get stabbed laddy?”

“I didn’t… Didn’t come alone. I brought a girl with me.” 

“A noble? Is she alright? I didn’t see one.” 

My heart seemed inclined to drop. “It was a human.” The girl paused, and I grit my teeth. “She was the one to stab me.” 

“Oh.” 

“I never touched her,” I muttered. 

“I believe you.” 

“I don’t think you do.” 

She clucked her tongue. “Well, I’m being told a human girl stabbed a noble unprovoked then ran off. That does sound a little farfetched. But then, your clothes looked like they’d been rifled, and you’re a Lord noble. Not only that, but you’re a Lord noble with the look of a human girl that just lost her cherry to a slaver, then went a few more rounds with him after the fact. You don’t have the look of a liar.” She looked down at her fingers again, then slowly raised them. “Is it alright if I touch your face?” 

“Why?” 

“You look like you need a little comfort.” 

I stared at her hand for a moment, breathed out slowly, then nodded. Ever so gently, she placed her reddened fingers against my cheek. It was almost unpleasantly warm. She brushed the thin straw of hair away from my eyes, tucked it behind my ear, and smiled. 

“There, that’s a good sound. Do you know that you’re purring?” I flushed. Her laugh was like a bark. “It’s alright, I’ve heard that countless times. It’s a nice sound. Usually means a satisfied customer.” Slowly, she drew her hand down to my chin and gently tugged it up to look her in the eye. “How are you feeling?” 

“Fine,” I lied, then frowned. “You’re a… Prostitute, right? You act like it’s not a big deal. Isn’t it… Difficult?” 

She quirked a grin. “What are you saying, Lord noble?” 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be butting in. I just…” I hunched my shoulders. “I would have thought that work would be painful and demanding, for… You know. Humans.” 

“Well, it is.” She dropped her hand and leaned forward with her head perched on her fists. “I’m just in a good mood because you’re so sweet, and most likely not about to pounce on me. Really refreshing, that there’s a noble in the room that’s got no interest in me.” 

“You didn’t know that when I woke up, but you still treated me. You’re still being kind.” 

“I took a chance, but I’m glad I did. And I’ve never been type to let something get me down, or someone.” 

“But still… I… I can understand the feeling.” 

She nodded over to the door. “There’s about ten of us. Not a big establishment, but big enough. And it sees a lot of traffic. So we get worked hard.” She sighed. 

“You’re still like this, even then?”

“What do you think happens when a girl’s light finally goes out after a lot of work?” Her smile was strained. “Someone has to boost morale. And help the next girl into place. I’m that girl that keeps everyone else going.” 

I winced. “That’s terrible.”

“That’s the way of the world.” She raised her hand again, showing it to me to inform what she intended, before she began to stroke my hair. It was appreciated. I was surprised how much a touch like that could take away. I kept my eyes open. Closing them made me think of brown curls. “But you’re a strange one. Why would you care? You’re a noble.” 

“I…” I bit my lip. “I don’t know.”

The girl’s stroking paused. 

“I thought perhaps I knew. But now I’m not sure anymore.” I furrowed my brows. She’d told me as much, once. She’d told me about who I was, what I represented. The sin I carried, in the aspect of my birth. I was wrong. And these people, these humans, they were the sufferers. But now, I found it so difficult to separate the truth from the fiction. She’d whispered so many things in my ear. I wasn’t sure who I was anymore. And my cousins… God, my poor cousins… I don’t think I’d ever be able to see them again. 

“You’re not a normal noble, are ye.” 

“What makes me any different from anyone else? I still have the hair and the eyes, don’t I?” I’m still just as sinful as the rest of them.

“It takes more than color to make you an arse, you know. Maybe some of you are. Maybe most. But I start to wonder, what is it that makes them that way. The hair, or the Royal?” 

“The Royal?” 

“You get told you’re special from the beginning, and you’re probably going to abuse that. You get told you’re going to be hunted for someone’s sexual fantasy your whole life, and you tend not to end up quite the same.”

I stared into the girl’s eyes. It wasn’t a mirror. But that didn’t matter. 

I risked a small, weak little smile. 

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to find your sister, when my father is looking for me,” I finally said. “But I promise I’ll do what I can. I don’t know how, but I’ll try. Right now, though…” My smile strained. “I don’t have the funds to keep myself going. Would you mind if I stayed here for just a few days?”

“A few days?” The girl grinned. “You’re going to need a few weeks for something like the thing on your back. I’m not exactly sure how much stronger nobles are than humans, but that thing was still infected, and you still very nearly died. I’ll give you as long as we can hide you from Redmund. But you need to give me something if you’re going to do that.”

I tensed, and the wound in my back burned. “What?” 

“Your name, ya silly.” She sat back on her stool. “I’m Evaline. What’s yours?” 

I relaxed with a soft breath. “Quill.” 

She snorted. 

“What?” I retorted. 

“You nobles have such stupid names,” she laughed. 

“Quill isn’t stupid – nobles, they just like to name their children after the future they want for them. They’re like prophecies.” 

“Prophecies? Just sounds like wishful thinking on your parent’s part. Naming your child after a writing implement, what, do they want you to be an author?” 

“A scribe, I was told,” I said softly. 

“Do much writing?” 

“More reading. But they…” I paused. “They did want me to be Right Hand, at some point.” I sighed, and rubbed my eyes. That seemed like so long ago. 

“But you ran away from that?”

“I ran away when I realized they never actually intended me to have a future.” 

The door creaked open, and the head of the young girl poked through. 

“Redmund’s asking for you, Eve,” she whispered. “He wants to know what’s taking you so long. Difficult client and all.” 

“Why didn’t you tell him I was powdering my nose?”

“I did. He didn’t care.” Behind her, the sound of crashing furniture made her flinch. She nearly dropped the bowl of porridge she clutched in her hands. “The client is really, really difficult this time. You know the type. He said he only wanted you, and Redmund said he… Well, he didn’t want to have an “ill-equipped girl” take him on.” 

“Bloody hell,” Evaline muttered under her breath as she jumped to her feet. “He’s not foisting another sadist on me again, is he? If it’s the one I think it is… Damn repeat customers.” 

“Redmund said it was either you, or one of us, and then he’d have to buy a new one.” The girl whimpered. She rushed into the cellar at the sound of splintering furniture and yelling. “It’s a King noble. Real big.” 

Evaline’s mouth twitched just before she put on a big smile. “Right. Let’s do this, then. I’ll be back in a jiffy. Get Mary on standby for when I get back, just in case. Gauze. Take care of the little Lord noble for me too.” 

The girl nodded emphatically. 

“And you.” Evaline looked back to me with a bright, fake smile. “I don’t want you doing anything. You need to heal. Stay put and eat some dinner.” 

“That man isn’t going to hurt you, is he?” I asked. 

“He’s here for patronage. I have a job to do. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” 

“You shouldn’t-“

“Shouldn’t what? Be a slave?” She laughed, left out the door, and that was the last I saw of her for the rest of the day. 

I ate slowly. Every movement was painful, no matter what they did to help me. And they did help, when they could. Packing the wound with cotton, cleaning it with burning alcohol, allowing it time to breathe between each change, they knew what they were doing. It made wonder how it was they knew, but I was afraid to ask. Redmund’s was a busy place, full of noise that not even this little cellar was safe from. Above me, the creaking of stairs sometimes joined the sounds. More often, it was screams, not moans that elicited through the thin walls. It was all too familiar. 

I tried to keep myself. The others acted as though it were nothing new, and I supposed it wasn’t. They were more worried about keeping me hidden from the owner of the brothel himself. 

The girls varied in age, but all of them were too thin, all of them a little skittish at first. I made myself small, hiding in the blankets and letting them approach when they pleased. I wasn’t exactly comfortable with them either. It was a mutual fear. The little girl with the porridge, Winnie, she was one of the few that managed to come right up to me, but it was the elder Angie that changed my bandages methodically and taught the others to do the same. She didn’t say much to me, other than quick orders to move so she could get a better angle. Still, I kept my tongue. I did what they asked. And in exchange, the other girls began to approach me, the both of us beginning to develop a kin of mutual trust. The fact that I was a Lord noble seemed to make things easier for them. I was surprised how much weight yellow hair and yellow eyes could hold over humans. It certainly wasn’t what I had seen at the Palace. But their big eyes would watch me like cats, would smile when I smiled back at them. And when Winnie slow, tentatively picked up a piece of my hair to see if it really felt like straw, I was surprised that I didn’t flinch. She was too small, I supposed. Too innocent. I was so stupid for seeing that before, where it wasn’t, in the one that had lied to me. Looking at these girls now, that barren emotion they never kept hidden in this little cellar, I was kicking myself for ever thinking I had known her. 

Redmund’s voice would occasionally yell out above all the other voices, a bark of orders that was so guttural it reminded me of my own father. He never went in the little cellar where the these girls went to nurse their wounds and get a few hours of sleep in, he at least gave them that privacy. They could even cook their own meals in here, though he did prefer them to get their meals out in the main hall of the building where he could see them. But this privacy was at the expense of being at his beck and call. That was the extent of the trust he lent them. If a girl was needed for any reason, she had to leave the respite and go to him without so much as a complaint. I could see the mask they latched onto themselves right before they headed out the door. One girl cried when her name was called, only to rub the tears away and put on a smirk as she turned the rickety wooden handle. She came back hours later to weep into another girl’s shoulder, the two of them gathered around me but acting as if I weren’t there. I turned away to give them the privacy they deserved, but when she rubbed her eyes and asked me to tell her a story, I didn’t hesitate. I never knew reading so many books could come in handy. 

Only Evaline ever seemed to break through that gruff exterior of their warden.

She kept me company when she could in the cellar, but she was always needed. She had that way about her, that disarming smile and jovial, barking laugh that charmed any who heard her. As soon as Redmund saw her, his voice silenced in that cacophony of noise beyond the door. She’d laugh at something he’d said, compliment something about him that earned a gruff note of thanks, then the two of them would go off to do whatever work she was required to do. She’d come back to the cellar with more than a few bruises another good-natured story about some strange thing a noble was into in order to get off, something to supplement the stories that I told. 

She got closer than all the others did, leaning right up against my cot and even patting my shoulder after asking me if she could. The others took note, and followed suit because of her. I don’t think I would have ever been so trusted if it weren’t for her working at every opportunity to include me. She was so strange. That dazzling smile, that catchy upbeat attitude all the other girls got infected by whenever she returned. I couldn’t help but smile too. 

I didn’t touch her, as much I wanted to. I could see what the others couldn’t, or perhaps elected to ignore for their own sanity. That strain in her smile when she limped back to the wooden box and took in some stewed vegetables and roast from the little pot they had boiling on the pitiful fire. I could see the marks of exhaustion on her face, the slices from whips on her legs, the hand prints around her neck. I wondered silently to myself how she could manage to look so happy. How she could be so upbeat with those strikes still bleeding down her back. How, even with the bite marks all over her shoulders and neck, she could just rub them off and work on the poor young girl who’d slammed her toe in a door. She was no mirror, no, but she was a ripple. She knew rape when she saw it, well I did too. She’d been doing this longer than me. She’d never gotten rest. But she had the girls. She had this little box, and she had that dazzling smile and that barking laugh. I wanted to give her a chance to rest. 

But then she’d look me in the eye, smile with a sparkle that no one had been able to take out of her, and I’d wonder how something like that could exist. She was the center of their world. A force of power unlike anything I’d ever seen before. With her, the life blood of this place was clear of infection. She did it for them. She had to, there was nothing else left. She told me she did. And I could feel it. 

When she had the time, we’d talk to each other about trivial matters. I learned her past that she never bothered to hide, and she never asked about mine. I learned about the little human village she’d grown up in along the Queen’s road. The road was a massive path straight through the wasteland, running from the Wonderland Forest to the Capital, and connecting to the Lord’s path and the King’s along the way. Out there in the center of it, were little collections of towns amongst the wasteland where crops died off in the wind. It had been safe there, once. Overlooked by nobles simply trying to make the pilgrimage to the city on the coast. But then there was a demand for more slaves years back. And when she was ten, and her little sister was three, they were taken because they weren’t fast enough. Ever since then, this had been her home.

Of course, she said all of this with a smile, telling this story like she had a thousand times, using her arms emphatically for movement as she described running and nearly escaping the slaver, using the prowess of a storyteller. She described in great detail the majesty of the Capital when she’d first seen the buildings, how she’d never expected them to be quite so BIG. And then she talked as thought she missed an old friend when she mentioned her sister. They’d been thrown apart when she was twelve, her little sister only five. But all of it had that bright, alive gleam in her eyes. Getting called away to another session only made her return with a more brisk pace than before, eager to tell more. 

She wasn’t like me. She didn’t like the pain. I couldn’t understand how she managed it.

She came back each time with more wounds, more reasons for her to give up. But she didn’t. She never did. 

A couple weeks later, I could stand. The young girls were around me there, egging me on with grins on their faces, shovelling toast and beans for breakfast into their mouths. I waved off Mary and her heavily pregnant belly as I finally found my footing. She was always hovering, never certain what to do, wanting to be helpful, but I didn’t want to risk knocking into the woman. 

I slowly straightened my back, waiting for the deep ache I thought I’d feel. But there was nothing but a sealed pink edge where that wound had once been. I breathed out slowly, and relished the simplicity of air that didn’t hurt. The girls clapped when I bowed. I teetered on uncertain legs, but managed to get back to a standing position without falling forward. 

“Well would you look at that.” I jumped at Evaline’s voice and promptly fell back into bed amongst the jeers and disappointed shouts of the girls. “Sorry,” she laughed. “Didn’t mean to startle you. But you’re looking better than ever. Even got some color in your cheeks. I didn’t realize how rampant your freckles were until now. You got a whole host of ‘em.”

“I think it’s healed,” I said to the ceiling with a sheepish smile. “I just need to get my strength back.” 

“More beans!” Jessie held up her plate, the girl of fifteen beaming as I took them off of her reluctantly. She was just a pole of a girl, but she didn’t hesitate to throw them at me. “More beans for the little Lord!” 

“Don’t eat all of it, Quillie,” Evaline chuckled. “That’s all the rations we got for the day.” 

“I wouldn’t dare,” I smiled. “I was thinking perhaps I could get a job around here, when I have my strength back. I could make enough to bring food in here.” 

“Oh, well that’s very noble of you, isn’t it?” 

I flushed, and wondered if I’d overstepped my boundaries. “Well, I just… I thought it was the least I could do. I’ve been wasting away here, using up your bed and all your food.” 

She smiled a very real, very soft smile. “It’s sweet, don’t you worry. We’d appreciate all the help we could get. Just don’t push yourself, alright?”

I could have said the same to her. Though I nodded, I held that worried look when a voice rang out in a growl from behind her. She flinched, turned, and my eyes widened. Her dress was strained red from behind. She limped back out. 

“Wait, Eva-“ 

“What is it now Redmund?” She asked loudly, drowning out my voice as she slammed the cellar door behind us.

The younger girls whimpered. Mary shushed them gently, but there was real worry in her eyes. Her eyes flicked back and forth uncertainly, her hand rubbing obsessively over her stomach. Her eyes met with the elder Angie, but that woman’s jaw was clenched tight, her mouth shut and her eyes beady. She didn’t know what to do either. We could only keep the younger girls calm with stories, food, and more attempts of me to walk. I tried not to look how I felt. These weren’t the usual cuts and bruises. She’d been pale. White as snow, hair ragged and patchy. Damnit, I should have realized how pale she looked. There was something wrong. That was too much blood, but I couldn’t leave. The minute I walked out the door, the minute I tried to say anything to Redmund, all of this would be over. 

I brought myself back to the bed, looked to the beans, and forced myself to eat. 

“There’s a storm approaching,” Angie said, when she came back in the next night.

“Where’s Evaline?” Winnie asked from the cot she was sharing with another girl.

“She’s still out there,” Mary softly mumbled. She wrapped her hands around her belly as she nudged closer to the fire. 

I looked to the door that Angie had just come through, and tightened the grip on my blankets. 

“She’ll be alright. She’s a strong girl. Probably just an extended session, you know the way of things.” Angie waved them off as she closed the door behind her. She had a few things in her arms from the market, little rations from the tips everyone had gotten. They’d pooled their quarters and eighths in for another hearty stew. 

“It’s never been this long before,” Jessie complained sleepily. 

“All of you, go to sleep,” Angie sighed. “There will be food and Evaline in the morning. We only have a few hours, you know how early this bloody place opens.”

The soft clucking of the girls quieted down to nothing in the next hour, but I kept staring at the ceiling. Angie placed the small bag of things from the market on a barrel and fell into her own bedroll with Mary, but even then, I couldn’t seem to close my eyes. The two of them whispered to each other by the fire, quiet worries about Evaline from Mary, and a harsh whisper to sleep by Angie, and then they too went quiet. 

I couldn’t close my eyes. The embers in the fire pit crackled, spit, and went out. Somewhere, I could hear the sound of rainfall. 

The door opened an hour after the candles had all died out. She thought I was asleep. Never before had she grabbed my arm like that, the shaking to get me awake. I jumped at the contact, relaxing reaching out to strike, but the eyes stopped me. 

They were dead.

I could barely see her in the dark of the room, but in the thin lines of light through the door, I could catch the glint of those tired eyes. She shook faintly in the dark. 

“Sorry to disturb you,” she whispered. 

“What’s going on?” I demanded. “We haven’t seen you for ages. You look – Evaline. What happened.”

“I’ve been bought.” 

“What?” 

“I’m not coming back.” Her smile was strained, like a grinning skull. I could catch that, at least. “One of Redmund’s patrons bought me. I’m not coming back.” 

“No, that can’t – he would never sell you, you’re too important.” I stared at her and my heart dropped when she simply smiled. “You weren’t… You weren’t just bought, were you? What happened?” 

“That’s not important now,” she wouldn’t stop smiling, the kind of grimace that never reached your eyes. In the dark, I could still see that she was trying not to cry. “What’s important are these girls. You need to take care of them, okay little Lord?” 

“Evaline –“ 

“I mean it. Take care of them for me. And don’t you dare forget what you promised me. You need to find Isabelle for me. Tell her… Tell her that her sister is alive and well, alright? Just, busy at the moment.” 

“Evaline.” I reached out when I realized the sound of dripping wasn’t just the rain drops. They were close. From inside. In front of me.

“Don’t,” she said hoarsely. She caught my hand, held it against her chest, and slowly shook her head in the dark I could barely see through. “You don’t want to touch me.” 

“Of course I do.” 

“No, you don’t. I mean it. You don’t want to touch me.” 

“What did they do to you?” 

“You don’t want to know that. You know what they’re capable of, Quill. You’ve felt it too. I’ve just… I’ve got to go.” 

“Evaline, you can’t.” My voice cracked. “They need you – we need you. You have no idea what is going to happen to these girls when you go. You don’t realize how – Please.” I shook as I held her hand tighter. “Please. I need you.” 

“I have to go,” she repeated. “Don’t make me cry, Quill. Do better than that.” 

“What do I have to do?”

“I told you, you bloody sod,” she laughed softly. “Take care of these girls. Do what you have to do. And find my sister. The palace. Don’t forget. Make sure… Make sure she doesn’t end up like me, alright?” 

I swallowed. “I’ll get them out of here. I’ll… I’ll do something. I promise. I’ll get them safe.”

“Good,” she said in relief. She was so tired, she couldn’t seem to hold my hand any longer. She let it drop, and slowly rose to her feet. “Good,” she repeated. “That’s all I wanted. You’re a good man, Quill. You know,” she laughed softly, her whole body twitching under the weight. “I think you’re why they call them nobles.”

I followed her to the door. She stopped me when she saw what I was doing, but I couldn’t leave her. I hadn’t realized how I towered over her. How much smaller she was than me. How she stooped where I stood tall. It wasn’t fair.

“Go to sleep, Quill,” She said softly. 

“I can’t.” 

“Go to sleep, Quill,” she repeated, and gently nudged my chest. 

“I can’t,” I said, and I hugged her. When I let go, I didn’t say anything about her back being sliced up, or that her leg was broken. I didn’t say anything about the deep, gouging wounds in her side. I simply let her open the door, and go.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wheels are set in motion. Wonderland begins to turn again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme for this chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ukzOgoLjHLk and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5A_ywn__nE

QUILL

I told Angie first. 

She stirred the pot lying on the bed of coals, not flinching when I approached. Mary sat beside her on her bedroll, tenderly rubbing her stomach and watching the small flickering fire. I didn’t struggle much to get there. No pain left in my back, and nothing more than a scar I could feel when I reached back far enough. I supposed there was a silver lining, if a small one. 

“Angie.” I glanced back to see if the other girls were paying attention to us. They were. Of course they were. Evaline was gone, and hadn’t returned. They didn’t know. She wasn’t here to keep them calm. Even as they left the cellar for their work, they had those nervous looks. They knew something was wrong, but they were far too afraid to suspect what. I held my tongue until they were gone. 

Which left Angie, Mary and I, the three of us around the stew. 

“What, noble?” The older woman asked. She was exhausted. I wasn’t surprised. 

“It’s…” I glanced to Mary. She looked up fearfully. “It’s Evaline,” I finished reluctantly. 

“What about her? She’ll be back soon enough. Calm your crooked little heart.” Angie cocked a glare in my direction, and I flinched. 

“No. She’s not. She’s… She came in the night. She was bought.” 

“What?” Mary jumped, but Angie stilled her with a hand on her shoulder. The poor woman tentatively sat back, biting her lip and looking just as jumpy as before. Her hands found themselves possessively back on her stomach. “That – that can’t be.”

“Don’t listen to the boy,” Angie grumbled. “He’s just a noble.” 

I was afraid of this. The worst part was, they had every reason not to believe me. “Okay. I see why you wouldn’t believe me. But what reason would I have to lie?” 

“I don’t know why nobles do anything and I don’t care. Evaline wouldn’t just up and leave. You barely know her. We’ve been together for years.” 

“She didn’t leave, she was BOUGHT. There wasn’t a choice.” I leaned against the wall for support as I watched her turn the pot. No pain didn’t mean I wasn’t exhausted. But the smell of food turned my stomach. I couldn’t think of eating. “She… I don’t think she told you because she was afraid of showing weakness.” 

“Well aren’t you special?” Angie spat. “You’ve only been here a month and a bit and you’re already calling the shots. A classic noble. They’re all the same. You don’t know her. None of you know any of us humans.” 

“Maybe he’s just confused, Angie,” Mary offered. She smiled at me. “Quill isn’t so bad, he’s just all turned around. Right, Quill? Maybe you saw something and got the wrong idea.” 

I wish I was. It would make this hurt less. I was tired of crying. 

I rubbed my eyes. “Ask Redmund,” I muttered. “Ask him where Evaline went. You won’t see her. She’s gone.” I heard the sound of girls approaching the door and bit down on my tongue. When they kept moving, I let out a sigh of relief. 

Angie and Mary shared a look. 

“And what if he’s saying you’re lying?” Angie asked.

“Then I hallucinated what I saw last night,” I sighed. I hoped that was true. I wanted it to be true. I could still remember those eyes. Trying so hard not to cry. It made my entire body flinch, just to touch her. I almost found myself out of breath when she returned it. I was afraid. She knew that. She was so light. She didn’t push. She always asked. She was gone. She was completely gone. I was too afraid to properly hold her in her last moments, but that didn’t matter now. “Just… Just ask him.” 

Angie left Mary to stir the pot, and I sat back against the wall as I struggled to think of what to do. I was no stranger to feeling lost and confused. But this was different. There were others involved. This wasn’t just a case of letting me drown anymore. I couldn’t sit there and take what my father might throw at me. I couldn’t lie down and die because of a girl’s betrayal that only affected me. I knew all of their faces, all of their names, all of their smiles. And we’d lost one because I was too weak and compliant to do anything about it. I laid down and did nothing, and Evaline died. I might as well have been complicit.

We couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t let them end up like her. These people cared about me. With nothing to gain, with nothing to want. They just listened, smiled and laughed. All of them just happy to be alive. And I could be safe. I didn’t have to worry, when they took care of me. They never pried. They never pushed. 

But that safety was a façade. It always was. This place wasn’t safe. The palace wasn’t safe. I was beginning to realize that perhaps the entirety of Wonderland was never safe. This world wasn’t a safe place. It was filled with monsters of every shape and size lying in wait for the chance to take away one’s very essence, in whatever form they asked for. And they got it, because of the color of their hair, because of their selfishness, because they thought themselves greater than those below them. No one was safe. No one was ever safe. And no one ever would be. 

No wonder people went mad. No wonder I thought I was going to drown. 

Angie closed the door silently behind her when she returned. Her jaw was rigid, her eyes as cold as anything. 

“Alright,” she muttered. “She’s gone. You’re right. Happy?” 

“No…” Mary broke into sobs. “No, she can’t be gone!” 

“Shut up,” Angie growled. “We can’t act like that around the younger ones. The minute they get word of this, they’re all going to break apart. Redmund will replace them the moment they don’t work anymore. You know that.” 

“But she’s gone and- she was going to help deliver the baby! If she’s gone – oh dear Evaline… Did you see the cuts? Did you see what they did to her? She wasn’t bought, she wouldn’t have been – not used merchandise like that, unless – oh god, unless-” 

“Mary!” 

“I’m sorry, Angie!” Mary devolved into unintelligible sobbing, and I tightened the twisting pain in my gut. 

“Why did she tell you?” Angie ignored her, and turned her glare on me. “Why you?” 

“I thought maybe she didn’t want you to think of her as weak. She… When she came to me, it wasn’t pretty. She didn’t have much time.” 

“I’m older than her. I’ve seen just as much as her. She knew that – she knows that. She could have come to me.” 

“She was dying, Angie.” 

Mary’s sobs grew louder. I gulped. 

“Dying,” Angie spat incredulously. “Really.”

“You didn’t see.” I turned away from Angie’s glare. “She told me to take care of the girls.” 

“You’re not one of us.” 

“I know.” 

“How dare you think that you could ever have control over us. You don’t. We should have let you die.” 

I fell further back into the wall. “I know.” 

“You took up all her time. She never had time to heal because of you. Do you even realize how much she did for you?” 

“I know.” 

“But now she’s…” Angie trailed off. 

I nodded.

“She’s dead,” she muttered, and tugged on the cuff of her patchwork dress. “Dead. Because of you,” the woman snarled, gaining her momentum again. “She’s dead because she sacrificed herself for some contemptuous, arrogant, underappreciative noble that believed himself better than us.” 

I curled up against the wall. “I know.”

“A piece of scum. One of the same as those that broke her to pieces.” 

“I know.” 

“You’re nothing but a piece of colorful trash, you and all the others that think themselves “noble”! You’re the reason we’re afraid. You’re the reason that we have to live our lives like this, that we lose everything that makes us human. All because of what, some elitist need for power?” 

“I know.”

“Then what the bloody hell do you have to say for yourself?” She nearly screamed.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Not enough.” 

I bit my lip. “Then let me fix it.” She narrowed her eyes. I tried not to trip over my words. “Let me fix this. I want to fix this. It isn’t fair. None of this is fair. This world is mad and I can’t stand it anymore. You don’t deserve to die. None of you do.” 

“That’s all well and good to say!” She stormed up to me, crouching with fire in her eyes as she glared me down. Her big, billowing scraps of dresswork fanned out behind her. “But you’re a stupid, stupid noble. You can’t fix anything. You’re of the Lord stock. You have no money. No prestige. You’re a runaway, for God’s sake. What are you going to do? Nothing. Nothing but live off of people that already have nothing.” 

I grit my teeth and resisted closing my eyes. She was too close. Too, too close. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. But I maintained her look, took a breath, and spoke. 

“Then let’s work together. Let’s get them all out of here. Escape.” 

“What kind of nonsense are you spouting?” She hissed. 

“It’s not nonsense. We leave in the middle of the night and get out of here. As far as we can. Leave the Capital if we have to.” 

“That’s suicide. The guard will find us and bring us back to the barracks. And then all of us are getting thoroughly raped, you know that? Including you. Don’t think I don’t know what’s happened to you, Lord noble.” She grabbed my jaw. I wanted to throw up. “You’re so weak, you can’t even move past it. You can’t even think, can you? The world is full of this for us. Every day. Every waking moment of our lives is what you’ve probably experienced in passing. And yet you act as if it’s wounded you beyond repair. It worked for Evaline, this whole charity act of yours, but it won’t work for me. Don’t you ever think that I’d give you sympathy just because some noble made you their toy.” 

“It… It doesn’t matter,” I grabbed her wrist, and kept it there. I had to talk through the jittering teeth. It didn’t matter if she was touching me. I just couldn’t think about it. Don’t think about how close she is to my back. Don’t think about the idea of what she could do to me. Angie was a friend. She was just confused. She was afraid. We all were. Lost, and confused. Grieving. Just like me. But no matter what I thought, I couldn’t get the cold, cruel licks of fear out of my throat, that urge to scream and run. “What I feel doesn’t matter,” I finally managed to gulp. “What matters is that the girls are safe. And maybe my idea is stupid. So let’s come up with one together. I don’t want to make you feel like you owe me. And I know… I know I owe you everything. I am just doing what I can. Because of how much she sacrificed. This is all I can do. This all I’m worth. I’m useless, but I want to try. Please. Let me be your tool. That’s all I ask.” 

“A tool.” She let her hand drop, then stood. Mary still sobbed in a corner to herself.

“Both of you need to stop fighting,” the pregnant woman whimpered. “Evaline… She wouldn’t want that.” 

“We’re not fighting,” Angie said gruffly. “We’re discussing.” 

I tried to take a breath of relief, but my throat was still closed up. She’d finally given me space. I was okay now. My heart could stop pounding so hard. 

“We need to focus on where to go,” I said as normally as I could. “The problem won’t be escape. There’s no guards, right? I would have heard them by now. You can’t simply walk out in the middle of the night with armed men about.” 

Angie reluctantly shook her head. “He doesn’t need them. No girl would be foolish enough to leave forever. They’d be found too easily in the streets. There’s enough nobles around, enough guards that no matter where she hid, she’d be found.” 

“Even if there were a noble with her? Would they still take her?” 

“A Lord noble, with ten humans? You really think they’d turn a blind eye to that? As soon as word got out that Redmund lost his entire stock, they’d be looking for just that. There would be nowhere safe for them. Maybe we’re better off here.” Angie returned to her pot, and hissed when she realized she’d burned the bottom. “We’re better off where there’s still hot food and shelter.” 

“But…” I could feel my heart drop. “Who’s going to replace Evaline?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Think about it. Evaline took every problem customer. The ones that didn’t want their girls to just be a piece of meat for them. Someone else is going to be made their outlet for violence. One of the girls is going to be picked from Redmund’s roster. Do you think any of these girls will be able to take the same beating that Evaline did? What about Winnie? Jessie? Do you want to have to take care of those wounds?” 

Her grip tightened on the wooden handle. “Don’t you talk like that.” 

“I don’t want it either. I wouldn’t be able to stand it.” 

“It won’t happen.” 

“It will happen. You know it will. Either tonight, or tomorrow, one of those customers is going to come in. And one of the girls isn’t going to survive it. We can’t wait for that to happen.” 

The three of us digested those words. I hadn’t even realized the gravity of them. But the were true. It was going to be a domino effect. Not all these girls had the durability Evaline did. Even if they did, they didn’t deserve that fate. I couldn’t bear it. 

“So we leave in the middle of the night, today?” Alice scoffed.

“When else?” 

“Where would we go?” 

“I… I don’t know.” 

“Of course you don’t,” she spat. “This is such a stupid conversation.” 

“He’s right,” Mary whispered. 

“You’re agreeing with a noble?” Angie spat. “After what they did to you?” 

“He’s not like them, Angie. He’s not.” 

“They’re all the same.” 

“What kind of noble stays with ten girls in the same little room for more than a month and still cringes when you even get near him?” Mary asked desperately. She grimaced sympathetically in my direction, and I tried to nod. I was still reeling, still trying to hide what effect Angie’d had on me. I couldn’t show them how difficult it was just hiding here, cringed in the corner and trying to piece together a logical, coherent thought. 

“The kind that’s too cowardly to do anything.” 

“Or the kind that has no interest in hurting us,” she argued. The woman stood up on her poor puffy feet, held her hands tightly around her stomach, and waddled over to me with the kindest of smiles. She stopped a foot away, raising out her hand to help me up. I smiled after a moment’s hesitation and stood up, but I only held her hand. Pressure on her back would have hurt the baby. 

“I thank you for the vote of confidence. But Angie isn’t wrong either. There’s no where for us to go after we out of here. The moment that Redmund sees that you’re all gone, he’ll put out a bounty on your heads. Any noble would want something like that. Or even to have you to themselves. And even if I were with you, I would be little protection. I’m still just one noble, and a Lord one at that. One probably being hunted down by the Right hand. The only way for the rest of you to be safe is if we find somewhere Redmund can’t reach us, and somewhere they’ll never find us.” 

“Does a place like that even exist?” 

“Yes. The rabbit hole.”

“Another one of your tall tales you’ve looked up from a book? Bah.” Angie tapped the spoon against the big pot, then took the ladle from one of the hooks as she scooped out portions for the three of us. “All of that is old religion and myth. We have our own stories about Alice and the rabbit hole, all humans do. But none of that has ever been real. It’s just a story, to help the younger ones sleep at night.” 

“Perhaps. But there was a journal I read, about a scribe, supposedly taking care of specific scrolls. Some Queen noble from hundreds of years ago in the Capital. Whatever it was, it was mostly incomprehensible. But there were a few things, like the rabbit hole’s location. Supposedly it was right under the Capital itself. Well, somewhere in it.” 

“You’re spouting nonsense. We’re having an adult conversation, not a story telling session.” 

“It sounds like a nice story, Quill,” Mary smiled the kind of smile an adult gives to an overly creative child. 

“Alright, maybe what I am saying is absolute shite, but there’s a possibility. And we are in dire need of possibilities right now. He spoke of multiple ways to get through, different entrances littered throughout the Capital. None of them were properly shown on any map, and I had no way of triangulating this without knowing much of the layout of the Capital itself, but I have street names. I have a couple landmarks. If we could try them, just go out and look for one, maybe… If we proved that it was right, we could come back with all of us, instead of a couple of us.” 

“A search party for an impossible thing?” Angie grumbled.

“Exactly. I could go.” 

“No.” The older woman handed me a bowl of stew. “None of that. You can’t even stand for long. Eat.” I took the spoon reluctantly and began to chew on boiled beef. She handed a bowl to Mary, took one herself, and furrowed her eyebrows as she ate, tapping her long fingers against the wooden bowl, thinking the way she did when she already made her mind up long ago, and just wasn’t happy with it. “I’ll go.” 

“What?”

“I’ll go. See about this hole of yours. Give me the directions, and I’ll find it for you.” 

“It’s more oblique than that, it’s difficult to find if you don’t know what you’re looking for, and I didn’t have any map when I read it –“ 

“It’s either I go, or it’s nothing.” 

I took another bite of the stew. It was hearty, full of vegetables and potatoes, and better than usual. She’d added quite a bit of salt to make the taste more palatable. I wondered how much that cost. 

“Fine,” I muttered. “I’ll write down what I remember. That will have to do for directions. See what you can do. Tonight.” 

“I’ll go as soon as Redmund closes shop,” she said. “If at least to entertain your stupid little fancies. But if this doesn’t work, then we stay here.” 

“And the girls?” I risked asking. 

Her jaw was rigid. “I’ll take the sadists. I’ll do what I can. But they’re not getting the girls.” 

“You can’t,” Mary whimpered over a mouthful of soup. 

“I’ll do what I have to do. I let Evaline pull the slack for too long.” Angie stared into her stew in anger. She had no one left to be angry at. “I could have done something. I could have realized that she was pushing herself too hard. But I thought she could take care of herself. I thought she was one of us.” She passed Mary a meaningful look. “I didn’t realize how young she was. I didn’t realize how stupid she could be. She went too far. Pushed too hard. Now she’s gone. At any point, I could have taken her clients. But I didn’t. I was oblivious. Or maybe I was just trying to pretend she could take it. Selfish.” 

“Angie,” Mary whimpered, but she petered out when she didn’t know what to say.

“We have to do this for her, then,” I muttered. Angie nodded. “All of us. We’re going to get out here and keep the girls safe. All of them. And that means you too. So don’t beat yourself up about it. We have to work together, and feeling like you need to sacrifice yourself doesn’t keep the group together.” 

Angie snorted into her stew, but here eyes grew softer as she ate in silence. 

She went out that night. 

The girls spoke softly amongst themselves, as if they knew something were about to transpire. The air was electric with tension. Winnie kept glancing to me as if she knew I was hiding something. But Mary and I gave the same explanation, that Evaline was out on some non-descript errand, that Angie had gone somewhere too, that there was nothing to be afraid. It was a stupid, precarious lie. No one believed it. But they knew when something was off, and they knew when not to question it. Jane and Ada spoke in whispers by the fire, with constant glances in our directions. But they kept to themselves, smiling when Mary approached with crackers. Martha combed Nora’s hair, but the usual hum under her breath was silent. Millie ate her soup in silence, the youngest of the group, and obviously scared. Jessie swooped in beside her to pat her hand, but the little girl flinched at the contact, and gulped the last of her food down so she could retire early for the night. 

The fire began to die, and still no one was truly asleep. I sat on the bed, refusing to let my back rest out of principle that I had to be prepared. Angie could walk through the door at any moment. I couldn’t even think of sleep. This was our chance. This was our opportunity. And I had to protect these people. If I’d botched the directions, if I was sending her after a legend, then all of this was for nothing. As it was, it was a fool’s errand. It was just a collection of a madman’s writings. None of that could have been real. There was no real Wonderland garden, no caterpillar, or talking cat. None of that was real. 

Eventually, the last of the coals turned to smoke, and most of the girls settled into an uneasy sleep. Still, I watched the door in silence. I noticed Winnie’s eyes in the dark, shining from the small flecks of light that stemmed from behind the door. I was surprised that she was still awake, but I said nothing. She glanced over at me, and it was her that shuffled over nervously until she’d plopped down on the bed beside me. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” She whispered. 

I shook my head. 

“We’re scared, Quill.”

“I know,” I dipped my head, curling my hands into the blankets. “I’m trying to keep you from that, but I can’t stop it. We just need to wait a little longer.” 

“For what?”

“I can’t say.” 

“Everyone else is asleep, can’t you tell me?” 

“Winnie…” I bit my lip. “We’re trying to make you all safe. Bring you somewhere safe.” 

“Out of Redmund’s?” Her eyes widened. 

“Shh,” I whispered. “We won’t know anything until Angie comes back. And I’m not even sure I gave her the right directions. This could all go horribly wrong very easily. I don’t want you to get your hopes up.” 

“Is Evaline with her?” 

I winced, and said nothing, but it seemed that was enough for Winnie. She dropped her head, played with her fingers, and sighed. “I though as much,” she murmured. “I was watching you and Mary and Angie. I saw the way you all looked at each other. Like there was no one left. That’s the kind of hopelessness you can’t just erase from your face.” 

“Don’t say anything. Please.” 

“I won’t, I’m not stupid.” My hands clenched tighter into the blankets. She was right, but she was also Winnie. Too curious. Too interested in things that would upset everyone else. Quietly watching, like an owl. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said softly. 

She nudged closer to me, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t. You don’t want to scare us. And that would scare us.” She smiled nervously. “I don’t want to die, Quill.” 

“Neither do I,” I tentatively answered. She moved closer, and I gripped the blankets tighter. The tiniest whine erupted from my throat. I don’t think she heard it. 

“You’re not a normal noble.”

“I’m just the same as the others.” 

“No, you’re different.” She looked up at me with wide eyes, and placed a hand on my lap. Her lip trembled. There was real nervousness in those owl eyes of hers. I was struck by seeing something I’d never noticed before, and it brought shivers of fear down my spine. Her touch seared me. It was too close. Far too close. “I’m scared, Quill.” 

“Winnie.” I gently took her hand, and placed it as far away form myself as I could. I tried to ignore the beating of my heart, or the little voice inside my head telling me to run as far away as I could. “You should go to sleep.” 

“That’s what I find strangest about you,” She whispered by my ear. Somehow, she’d gotten impossibly close. I held my breath and waited for it to be over. “You don’t do anything. We can all sleep safely around you. Are you a deviant?” 

“No.” 

“But you liked Evaline, didn’t you?” 

“She was a friend.” 

“She liked you.” 

“I didn’t notice.” 

“You did. Of course you did.” She drew a lock of hair behind my ear, and this time I did whimper enough for her to hear. “You purred with her. You don’t purr with anyone else. Not one.” 

“Please stop touching me.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I’m scared.” I shut my eyes tight. “Please. Just stop.”

“What?” I felt her sit back on the bed. “Why? You’re a noble. You shouldn’t be scared of things. You have everything in your power. You could do anything.” 

“Sure - I know. I just – I don’t want to be touched. Please.”

She went silent. I felt her position move, from the bed, down to the floor. When I opened my eyes again, she was lying down beside it, staring up at me. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. 

“It’s fine.” I ran a hand through my hair, trying to will the back of my neck to calm itself, trying to fix the pieces of straw she’d touched. It had never been this bad, before her. Before, I didn’t care. It could have been anyone, and I would have done it. I would have even enjoyed myself. But after the Capital, after the carriage, after… There was nothing left. Nothing but this deep, aching fear, this pure terror at even the thought of a touch. My hands were shaking and I couldn’t seem to make them stop. I hadn’t even noticed, with Evaline here. She made it easier to forget. A friend. Someone that always asked first. But now… 

I was terrified. 

I went back to watching the door. Winnie’s eyes eventually fell closed. But it was another hour until my heart fully began to subside. 

I held my breath when the door opened in utter darkness, but then I started to wonder if I was hallucinating. I couldn’t have been seeing light blue hair, nor the blue eyes of a female Duchess noble. That was impossible, nonsensical. What was even more impossible was that Angie was right behind her, talking softly and swiftly to her, almost as if they were friends. The two of them padded into the cellar with hushed tones, Angie even guiding the young noble to the fire as she struggled to get it going again. 

“Angie?” I asked in the darkness. The woman jumped. 

“Quill?” You’re still awake?” 

“And me,” Mary whispered. I blinked in surprise. The pregnant women slowly hobbled to her feet from her sleeping roll near the fire, helping Angie relight the fire and looking in curiosity at the silent stranger. 

The Duchess noble self-consciously grabbed at her hair. Blue locks of hair were tied back in a loose leather knot, the strands streaked with black. She held her blue satchel close to her chest. Blue clothes that showed her deep connection to the Court of Diamonds made her stick out like a sore thumb. The pale skin was flushed in nervous embarrassment. She kept looking from Angie to the others, uncertain what do with herself. She was afraid too, I could see that. When she saw me, she bit her lip and tried to maintain a sense of dignity I could tell she wasn’t used to. She wanted to disappear in the indigo cloak around her shoulders. I knew the feeling. 

“Who’s this?” I asked softly. 

“Sylph,” Angie muttered. “Another stupid noble name. But she’ll be useful to us.” 

“Pleased to meet you,” the girl bowed her head. The fire flickered to life, and I got a good look at strange eyes that looked at me with uncomfortable familiarity. The face was porcelain, devoid of blemish, as white as snow. I hadn’t seen many Duchess nobles in my life, much less a girl. But she was everything I had read about. Haunting, ghostly eyes flickered in the light of the small fire, a dark blue that matched her hair. She wasn’t much younger than myself. Her pale lips were worried by white teeth. “I was told you needed help.” 

The fire was beginning to wake up the girls. Soft whispers asking what was going on began to fill the room, and Mary quickly went to quiet them down, offering words of encouragement and calm as I tried to understand why Angie had brought such a strange creature into the cellar. 

“She knows where it is,” Angie muttered into the fire. “Your directions weren’t completely useless, I suppose. They did lead me to her.” 

The Duchess noble smiled, and nervously drew back her satchel. “You were very close, I apologize for accosting you.” 

“You know?” I said in disbelief. I found myself on my feet, taking in the strange noble. Angie brought her here. More than that, Angie must have told her. A noble. It was unfathomable. And I was left to wonder too, that she would know something so closely guarded by Queen nobles. “Are you a scribe?” 

“What? Oh no, nothing like that.” Quietly, she played with her fingers, picked over from anxious habit. “I’m just a supplier. I was told to be on the lookout. But I was… I was also told that things were afoot. To look for discrepancies, you see. And then your human friend came by and she started looking for something. And I knew that was strange…” She smiled tentatively. “She was rather out of place in the middle of the gardens, you see, and…” She trailed off. “I’m surprised you know about things like that, though.” Those big eyes were off-putting. “You’re more interesting than I thought you would be. Hiding amongst humans like this...” She trailed off. 

I waited for more, but when her focus changed to the girls, I realized this wasn’t the time. Angie was waking them. She seemed to have already made the decision of what we were to do, and that meant leaving. Now. “I have hundreds of questions,” I said with some reluctance, “but none of them are important right now. Did Angie tell you?” 

“There’s plenty of room down in the tunnels, I assure you. You all would be welcome there.” 

“So they’re real?” 

“Of course they are. They’re the things that have always been there. It’s us, the nobility, that have chosen to forget them, and pretend they are no longer there.” Her words were strange. Lilted. I could feel shivers drifting up my spine. 

“Alright then. Can you take the rest of us? Would that be okay with… With the scribes?” 

“Oh, I suppose. I don’t see a problem with that… but the question is if you’ll be able to stand it down there. It’s all very dark in some spots, and very dangerous. And very strange.”

“We’ll manage,” I muttered. 

“And the scribes keep to themselves, I almost never see them.”

“My priority right now is to get everyone somewhere safe and away from this place. If the neighbors aren’t nice, that’s fine. If I can leave to get supplies for the girls, then that’s enough for me.” We’d be needing money. Perhaps I could cut a deal with the scribes, if I could find a way in. Sharing information, perhaps, though I doubted they were particularly interested in current court politics. Or I could be the same as her, a supplier running back and forth for them. I’d find a way. This would be the first step, but once we’d gotten there, we’d have to think about ways to live. Would this be temporary? Would I guide them out of the city? Would the girls even want me? 

“But you’re Quill, aren’t you?” Her pale lips widened into a smile made larger by the twisting light of the fire. “You’re just as she said you would be.” 

“Angie?” I asked offhandedly. She’d want to be the leader of this group, now that Evaline was gone. Her guilt would force her. Already I could see the way she was taking charge of things. I was just wasting time talking, and she was organizing who would carry what, giving everyone their cloaks, making sure even Jane was awake.

“No. The Duchess.” 

“I…” I stared at her in silence. “Pardon?” 

“The Duchess,” the girl said softly. “Maybe a little different. But you never stop thinking, Quill.” 

Angie turned back to me before the Duchess noble could speak any further, clapping a hand on my shoulder gruffly and grabbing her own small sack of things beside her and Mary’s bedroll. I flinched at the contact, but I doubted she noticed, or cared. The girls drew together in clumps in the room, further roused by Mary’s gentle probing. As scared as the pregnant woman was, she was very good at leading the terrified girls, the same as Angie. They listened to kind words that gave little explanation but to gather their things and prepare to leave. 

“Let’s go,” Angie muttered. “She’ll lead us there.” 

“Now?” I asked, turning back to Sylph with a growing pit in my stomach. Her eyes were uncanny. She knew something. She knew about me. This could very well be a trap that we were being led into. “But –“ 

“But what? There’s no better time. Redmund is asleep. The city was silent when I travelled it, other than the Red Light district. As long as we keep our cloaks around us and stay quiet, we’ll be left unaccosted. We have a guide. We have everyone together. There’s no better time. We need to go.” 

A few cries of where Evaline was sounded through the small group, but Mary calmed them with soothing words. She was telling them about safety, without explaining where. Escape, she whispered in their ears. It was enough to silence them. Something as sweet as that kind of promise would go down easily. 

Angie was right. There was no better time. If we wanted to be safe, if we wanted to do this, for Evaline, for her sacrifice, then we had to leave. Even she was afraid. I could feel it, the ever so slight shake of Angie’s hand. What we were doing went against her doctrine. This was impulsive. This was rash. And this was the only chance we were going to have if we were going to keep everyone safe and away from the next round of sadists. There were so many questions left up in the air, but she had only me and another noble to bank on. I would be scared too. 

I was. 

“Alright.” I nodded hesitantly. I looked between everyone in the small cellar for something to carry. There wasn’t much there but the few rations we could scrounge up, the blankets and bedrolls themselves, and the few extra clothes we had. I certainly had nothing for myself. But the most important things, the girls, they were awake and ready to go. Fearful, certainly, their eyes wide at the strange Duchess noble that stood by the fire with a look that could have made any cower, but they were awake. Safe, healthy, and huddled close together as they waited for Angie and I to lead. Winnie stood apart from the others, the owl that she was, holding a sack she must have packed up hours before. She knew. I wasn’t sure how, but that wasn’t important now. I stumbled on the way to the door, only to have Angie catch me. She held me back as she let the Duchess noble go ahead of us. 

“Don’t push yourself,” she muttered. “And keep that cloak around you. We’re all going to have to be silent and careful for this first bit.” 

“Thank you,” I murmured. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

Redmund’s was not nearly as mystical as I imagined. Little more decorated than the cellar itself, the center room was fitted with old couches, a lonesome bar, and a hall leading to the patron’s rooms. The lights I’d grown so used to seeing were from the small braziers that littered the room, still lit so late into the night due to the sheer amount of charcoal and wood left in their recesses. A staircase led up to another set of rooms, this one set partially on the cellar we’d been using for so long. Everything suddenly felt larger. This room was too big. I had the urge to go back. The air smelled of alcohol and hookah, but the girls ignored it as they stepped silently from foot to foot, following like wide eyed rabbits as we left the shop, then stepped into the laughter of the late night air. Angie gripped my shoulder as tightly as she could. It was strange, that mixture between fear and relief. Something touching me that kept me safe. 

“What happened out there?” I whispered to her. “You’re going along with everything she’s asking of us. Aren’t you afraid? She could be leading us into a trap.” 

“She showed me,” Angie muttered. She nodded at the Duchess in front of us. The girl had her indigo cloak wrapped tight around her, that satchel nearly hidden in the fur. 

“The rabbit hole?” 

“It’s real.” I watched Angie bite her lip so hard it looked as though it would bleed. Her own rags were hidden by the threadbare cloak around her shoulders. She walked with purpose, but something strong had shaken her. Loss was in her eyes, loss I couldn’t seem to reach. It was worse than the fear of where we were going. I’d misjudged her. “All of it’s real.” 

“But then that’s good. We have somewhere to go. We’ll be safe. We did it.” I tried to smile for her, but she simply shook her head. 

“It’s there. I suppose that’s all we can ask for.” 

“And the Duchess noble?” I whispered. I looked in front of us to the strange blue creature that led us through the brothel and out into the streets of the Red Light district. She capered back and forth, uncertain in her footing, as if she didn’t know where she was going.

“I don’t trust her.” 

“There’s something wrong, isn’t there?” I hesitated. 

She snorted. “I don’t trust nobles, boy, there’s a difference.” She looked back to make sure the rest of the girls were following. Winnie and Jessie took up the rear of our little troupe, their hands helping Mary along as she struggled through the cobbled streets. The pregnant woman’s cloak was wrapped around herself lest it drag behind her, and Winnie had a blanket around her shoulders instead. Jessie’s cloak barely reached her knees, but she gripped it like it would be the ultimate protection against all. 

“Then why are we following her?”

“She’s shown me enough that I know she’s telling the truth. She doesn’t say much, but she says enough. And…” She hesitated. “And you were right. I could never stand to see any of us suffer like that. If that means we die, then we die here. And that will be the end of suffering for all of us.” 

“We won’t die here.” 

“Easy for you to say. You’re a noble. The taboo works for you, no one would murder a precious noble.” I bit down on my lip, hard. “But it won’t work for those that your kind see us as little more than chattel.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing,” she huffed. “It doesn’t suit you. If you want to be a leader, take better charge of things. That Duchess noble, she thinks of you like that.”

“I don’t know why.” I felt a felt sliver of fear run down my back. “She’s strange. She said something. About the Duchess knowing me.” 

“She seemed to know you, certainly. I thought you would have known this noble. She knew your name.” 

That didn’t help anything. The pit in my stomach was growing. I was finding it difficult to talk. “Do you think that my father spoke with her? Is there a warrant out?” 

“Doubtful. No.” Angie’s eyes narrowed. “She said the Duchess knew you, right? Wouldn’t elaborate with me either. I don’t like this, but it doesn’t smell of evil. More of strangeness.” 

“Can you smell strangeness?” 

“Don’t test me, boy.” 

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just afraid.” Her hand tightened on my shoulder. I flinched at the contact, but she didn’t let up. 

“You need to get used to touch again,” she muttered. “Acting like some fearful virgin is only going to make you weaker.” 

“I’m trying.” 

“People smell weakness.” 

“Believe me, I know.” 

The two of us drifted into uncomfortable silence as we followed the Duchess noble through the dark streets of the Capital. For hours, we walked, the girls silent as the grave as they held each other’s hands, looking for small comforts. We carried all that we had on our backs and in our hands, holding up each other when we couldn’t seem to walk any further. I hadn’t realized just how large the city was. One could so easily get lost in these alleyways that seemed to lead nowhere. Everywhere was shadowed by giant brick buildings, lopsided from hundreds of years of wear. I began to wonder just how far Evaline had carried me. It must have been miles. She had brought me to her little slice of peace in the midst of a storm, and for what? She couldn’t have known who I was. She only knew I was dying. She gave me life. 

I hadn’t forgotten about her sister. 

As we passed through the Queen’s road, I got the opportunity to look up at the Palace that this place was built around. It was a different kind of architecture, the kind that would never fall, the kind untouched by time. A black palace, with dark grey bricks, tinged with red from all of the tapestries and flags that waved in the breeze on its parapets. The thing was a gothic nightmare in the night. An obelisk that rose like a tumor out of the hill it perched on. A massive gate could be seen even at this distance, keeping the cancer from spreading into its own dark perfection. Her sister was there, somewhere. She’d said Isabelle was in those walls. 

It made me sick. 

The Duchess noble stopped us outside an alleyway. Angie’s eyebrows furrowed when the blue-haired girl raised her hand to signal us to halt. 

“This isn’t where I met you,” the older woman hissed. “This is the trade district. In a few hours, this place becomes just as busy as the Red Light. Why are we stopping?” 

Behind us, the girls whimpered. 

“The tunnels cross over the entirety of the Capital,” She said softly. “We don’t need to go all the way back to the gardens. It would be easier if we traveled underneath, don’t you think?” 

“I don’t see any entrance,” Angie hissed. “This seems like a fool’s errand. Was this all just a trick? We’re like sitting ducks out here.” 

Mary sobbed into her cloak, but the Duchess noble ignored the both of them as she stumbled towards the wall of a particularly old building, then tore out a brick from the road in front of it that I hadn’t even noticed was loose. Behind it, the tiniest lever lay hidden. She pulled the mechanism out towards her, and with a surprisingly quiet clicking noise and rough creaking of stone on stone, a section of the cobbled alley path opened inwards. 

Before us lay a dark tunnel, etched with marks of shovels from long ago. The smell of stale air wafted up into the night air. It was as though a maw had unearthed itself from the depths, eager to swallow us up. 

“You can’t expect us to go in that!” Millie whimpered. The girls echoed similar sentiments. I couldn’t say I disagreed. After learning about the rabbit hole in those readings, the stories of cheerily lit underground networks and cheerful scribes, to be shown this was… Disarming. 

“It’s alright, dear,” Mary whispered, even though the waver in her voice betrayed her thoughts. “We’re going to be safe here. No one is going to look for us. I promise.” 

“It’s true.” Sylph smiled. “No one knows of this world’s existence anymore. The Queen would never think to look, much less a brothel owner. Or a Right Hand.” 

That pit in my stomach felt like the size of a melon. When Angie realized I wasn’t moving, she scoffed and went down first. 

“It gets brighter later down,” Sylph called down to the woman. “Just a few hundred feet, not to worry. Just watch your step, and hug the wall.” 

“Why are you doing this?” I asked her as the girls began to file in. 

“Hm?” She acted as if she hadn’t heard. 

“Who are you? How do you know me?” 

“Is now really the time for this, Quill?” Mary asked in exasperation. Jessie carefully helped the pregnant woman down the slope of the hidden tunnel, though she herself seemed half frozen in apprehension. “We don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“But this doesn’t sit right with me,” I insisted. I turned to Sylph with a narrowing glare. “You said the Duchess knew me. Why? And why are you helping us? What do you stand to gain from any of this? We’ve just dropped into your lap, and you practically jump at the chance to help us.” 

“I suggest you follow them, Quill,” Sylph quietly poked at her fingers. Now, she wasn’t looking me in the eye. I wasn’t sure what was worse. “They’re going to be getting ahead of us. I need to guide them down there. Could you go down so I can lock up after you?” 

“Quill?” Winnie poked her head out from the pocket of darkness. “We’re waiting for you. Angie said you can’t walk on your own. Do you want my help?” 

They were already down there. I couldn’t back out now. Not even if I wanted to. But there was nothing back there for us. It was either this, or nothing.

I could have very easily just brought these girls to their own demise. 

“You… I’m fine, Winnie.” I snarled, and carefully made my way down the slope. “Let’s get going. We’re burning valuable time.” Answers would come later, I supposed. But they would better damn well come.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two lines entwine. 
> 
> I think there might be one chapter left before we move onto the next book. It's already like half done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muse/theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=abAfJ-sjW88 and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YV7NNzVPDYA

MARGRET 

The world was grey today. In my eyes it was. But then it was grey every day. And wet. And nothing. 

I think my legs had stopped working. I couldn’t feel them anymore. They didn’t seem to want to work anymore. Not that I particularly tried. It didn’t matter anymore, anyways. 

They were waterlogged in this gutter on the side of the road, seeped in the rain draining down to the world below that everyone had forgotten. 

People walked past up above, on that cobblestone path only a few feet above my little hell. They looked down at me. There would be whispers. Questions. Why was that scrap of black fabric breathing, stuck in the mud and trash and water? Was that a hand that reached out from beneath it, clutching a dagger it could never seem to let go of? Maybe someone should call the guards. Maybe it was a noble. That mattered, you know. Someone should check the hair color, to see if it’s someone worth caring about. Brown hair was just another entertainment girl that had been pushed too far and left to die like common trash. She was a dime a dozen. Or if it was a man, then maybe he was a worker. Or a sex slave like the girl. Men and woman had their tastes. And he had been pushed past the brink in some way. Broken somehow. Maybe a torn ligament that would be too much of a pain to heal. Or some kind of infection that wasn’t worth treating. 

But maybe I was a noble. Would that really matter, in the end? In theory, yes, but in practice? I was just another murder. It had become commonplace. To find some Lord or Queen of Duchess or King stabbed in an alleyway, left to bleed out staring soundlessly at the night sky. Found in the morning, pale and withered. The sun would bake down on them, the hot summer sky that I could never seem to feel. You’d smell cooking meat some days and come upon a body in the middle of the day, ready to be served with an apple in their mouth. 

No more of that, I supposed. Not if I couldn’t walk. 

I watched their progress. They couldn’t see my face from here. No one could. The greased tangles of hair were hidden away in the ratty old cloak that was soaked to the bone, the last drudges of magic still clinging to that fabric. As much as it was tattered and old, it still worked. God knew how. There was no magic left in this world.

So they couldn’t see me. But I could see them. The way they passed back and forth. I watched them with hollow eyes, seeing their boring motions of the day to day. It never changed. How many months had it been? How much time had passed since I gave up trying? Did I ever really try at all? 

It felt like I might have, once. Like there was once something worth living for. But then there was that fall. The rabbit hole was more dangerous that I had anticipated from the stories. I hadn’t realized what it was capable of doing to people. I’d gone down it mad, and returned with nothing left. Nothing worth thinking about. 

These people acted like there was something to aspire to. Like our world wasn’t dying. Like the world wasn’t already dead to begin with. They pretended that the stories didn’t exist, that Alice was merely a philosophical concept, that magic was never an important aspect of their lives, like the four rulers had always existed and were as benevolent as they sometimes liked to pretend. Other times they didn’t even try. And no one ever asked questions. No one ever tried to consider the reality of the world they were in. Why would they? Why would they want to be like me, sitting in this gutter, feeling her life start to flash before her eyes as she drifted in and out of consciousness? 

I couldn’t breathe anymore. My chest burned with every tiny puff of air. No pain, never any pain, but a warmth. A fire. The last death throes. How many infections did I have? How long ago should I have toppled down and died? Why was I still going? Perhaps it was my father’s blood. The damnable blood of the Queen, the immortal beauty sitting on that throne, as alien as ever. Nobles had that stability that humans didn’t. An inner strength, the endurance to keep going. The stamina to fuck whoever they pleased. The healing prowess that put humans to shame. That’s what kept us alive in a world meant to be dead. That’s what made us better. That’s what made us subjugate them. That superfluous greater ability that was nothing in the end. We still died. I was still dying here. Even if they weren’t dead, those people that trotted to and fro above on the surface, there wasn’t anything left to live for. 

Rettah was dead. Father was dead. Mother was dead. Asentual was a parasite, some creature that had trapped itself in my poor dead brother’s body and had begun to puppet him about. I heard about him sometimes. About the things he had done to human girls. About his sexual appetite, and the inability of any to placate him. My poor little brother. I should have killed him myself. I should have killed the both of us at the very start. I had the axe. I had just enough strength to take off his head, and then do the same to myself. It wouldn’t have hurt. It would have been quick. We wouldn’t have ended up this way. 

It still didn’t hurt. I still didn’t feel anything. After all this time, all this effort, all of this broken body and murder and blood, I still couldn’t feel a thing. How many cuts were on my body, no longer sealing? How much pain was I supposed to feel? 

I didn’t have the strength to cry anymore. 

Let me die here. Let me cease. Wonderland was dying too. There wasn’t a point.

“Stay quiet,” he said. “Please.” 

“But I’m scared,” the girl whimpered beside him. She held his hand tightly in her little one. About ten, wide eyed, the shawl about her shoulders far too large for her tiny frame. A gust of wind could have taken her away. 

The two of them moved quicker than the others. They approached and the gutter with a nervous air, neither wanting to slow down, but the Lord noble was too fearful to speed up. He was taking her away somewhere. Maybe to fuck her. Maybe to kill her. Who knew. Who cared. 

His voice was louder now. They were close. I raised my head to watch them. Right at the edge of the gutter, a freckled Lord noble, golden eyes peering back at the crowd in this relatively quiet district that was meant for low maintenance trade. He ran a hand through straw-like hair as he chewed on his lip. The sound of guards was near. He was nervous. Too nervous to not be noticed, but not enough to be cared about. The nobles on this street barely glanced his way. There were more important matters in their lives. Like making money. 

“Alright. We’re nearly there. The guards sound like they’ve caught on.” He stopped in front of me. Only feet away. That Queen noble must have heard everything. But his wrinkled beady eyes were on the human servant picking out textiles for his master. The Duchess noble on the other side of the street didn’t even raise his head at the sound of guards, too busy trying to find the difference between the identical metal hookah pipes the seller was probing him to pick. “I want you to go ahead to the heart of the trade district, alright?” The Lord noble muttered. He crouched down to the little girl’s height, tucked her hair behind her ear, and smiled the kind of smile you reserved for people that were afraid. 

I let out a low breath, and my body rattled. 

The girl’s lip trembled, but she held his hand tight and nodded. 

“You’ll see Angie there where I said she would be, alright? Angie. Big, strong woman. She’ll be wearing a brown cloak, big as a blanket. She looks like a Queen noble. But you can tell, can’t you?” His voice was soft. Quiet. He didn’t want to be caught. Whatever he was doing, it wasn’t meant to be heard.

“Okay,” she nodded again, but she didn’t want to let go of his hand. 

“Then you’ll be able to find Millie there, just as I said. Your sister’s been waiting for you. She misses you a lot.” 

“Okay,” she said again, her hand tightening around his with new fear in her eyes at the understanding of what he meant.

“That means you have to let me go. We can’t be seen together. The barracks officer is going to be looking for the both of us. Together.” 

“I’m scared.” 

“Just keep moving. You’ll be safe.” He whispered that, like a little mouse. He wanted to be as quiet as he could. I don’t think he thought anyone else could hear. “Safe as houses. Just find auntie Angie.” 

He let go of the girl’s hand, and she ran. That, people did notice. A little human girl, running about, that looked like a runaway slave if they’d ever seen one. It caused some double takes, not in his direction, but in hers. Some must have questioned why he didn’t chase after the girl that had obviously run away from him, except to perhaps come up with reasons why she hadn’t. She could have been running errands, for all they knew. It wasn’t their place to interfere. To do anything about anything. This wasn’t their job. They were here for commerce, to do their duties and go home. It would be the guard’s job to find that girl if need be. And they would find her. For better or for worse. You could hear them approaching in the distance already. 

But this man, though. This Lord noble. He stood up slowly, watched her go, and for a moment I thought I’d seen real worry in his eyes. It made me wonder for a second just what kind of creature he might be, to care about something as pitiful as a human child. He was just the same as the rest of us with that blond hair. A fool, I supposed. Or a good actor. I didn’t care. He was too far away to stab through the heart. 

And then my head fell down. No strength left to hold it up. The water and garbage in my little hovel was just as interesting, I supposed. 

I listened to the sound of the guards go by. They said not a word to the citizens that paid them no mind. It was nothing but the crunching of metal that drowned out the quiet, pleasant chatter of trade. The sounds of swords in their hilts and spears clanging on stone. The sound of huffing lungs after a full day of carrying around heavy plated armor in the heat of the summer day. The sound of ruffling fabric, the flags holding the emblazoned red hearts of the queen. It couldn’t have been many. I wondered, was it a slave barracks this man stole from? Had he not the money for a thing of his own? It was a ballsy move, to steal from the source. 

The sound of the guards faded away. But in its place, I heard footsteps growing closer. The sound of old dress shoes slipping on mud, the gasp of a man who nearly lost his balance. The water rippled and splashed at the sound of something big landing in with me. The trash on the surface rippled with it. It was only a few inches deep, but I bet it soaked his shoes right through. I bet it was bitterly cold. It felt bitterly cold.

“Hell…” I heard him mutter. I felt the urge to move. To get up. To slice. To kill. But my hand was under the murky water, the knife with it, too cold to feel any longer. So hot, and yet so cold. 

What he was doing, that was the question. Did he see me? Of course he did, if he was down here. Was he about to call the guards? No, that didn’t make any sense. Maybe he saw something he liked. Maybe he just wanted a closer look at a dead body. Maybe he wanted to see if that really was a scrap of fabric, or a person. Something to ogle at. Poke fun. 

My arm tensed when I saw the edges of his shoes. He ducked down, and I saw his face. Tanned, sun-kissed skin. Average face, nothing to look at. Freckles everywhere, even his bloody ears. Golden eyes to match golden hair. But his eyes seemed much too old for someone that couldn’t have been more than a year older than me. He kept his brows furrowed, as though he were lost in deep philosophical thought.

What was I thinking. It didn’t matter.

I couldn’t move my mouth, other than to slowly grind my jaw. When I didn’t answer, he reached for my hood. He stopped when I twitched. It was all I could do. I couldn’t grab him. I couldn’t, even though every part of my brain screamed at my body to move. To kill the man that was about to know who I was. I was supposed to die here. He was ruining it, and I couldn’t even kill him. This was a travesty. 

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, when he’d placed a hand on my wrist. Checking for a pulse, finding one, and not quite believing that this bag of bones could be still moving. His eyebrows furrowed when he saw the purple dagger, now tightly grasped in my hand. One pull was all it took, and it was freed from me. My hands curled around nothing, still making the shape of the hilt that had its home there for so long.

Then he tugged up my hood ever so slightly, no matter how much I twitched this time. I don’t know what he was looking for, but he breathed in quickly and pushed it back over. I would have chuckled if it didn’t wrack my body so terribly. I would have had the same reaction, if I’d seen myself. Why did you think I wore the hood, you bastard? 

I clenched my jaw. 

He looked like he was trying to decide something. Holding the dagger in his hand, looking at it, then at me, then at the neighboring nobles that couldn’t have cared less about either of us. 

Let me go. Let me die. I hated him. I hated him so much. He was ruining everything. I was supposed to fade out of this miserable existence, out of this world that was full of nothing. He was desecrating a corpse. 

I tried to feel my teeth with my tongue. My jaw clicked. 

I opened my mouth, and barely avoided the water of the gutter splashing into my mouth.

“Bastard…” The voice didn’t sound human. It made me shiver. “Let me die.” 

“What?” He paused, with the dagger still poised in his hand. My dagger. Not his. 

Perhaps he hadn’t heard me. 

“Let me die,” I repeated in that same hoarse, quiet hiss. “Wonderland is dead. Let me die.” 

The man went quiet. If I just had the sheer willpower to grab his neck. To get back my precious knife. Then I would take one more down with me. Down to the pits of hell, where we all belonged. Where we should have been from the beginning. 

I couldn’t even turn my head. 

“Everything is dead,” I muttered. “Everyone’s… So stupid.” My voice was slurring now. The light was going in and out. Maybe that was his shadow, blocking out the sun. He was like a buzzard gathering around the corpse. “Everyone’s so naïve.” 

This would make him leave. It’s what made everyone else leave. It’s what made Sylvie leave. What separated me from the rest of the court. No one ever, ever talked about it. That’s the way the world worked. That’s how it always worked. 

“Fuck the Queen,” I muttered, and closed my eyes. “Fuck the bloody Queen. There… Now go.”

He ripped me from the water. 

The world tipped over as I went from the water, to seeing the street from the angle of his shoulder. He’d slung me over his damned back. Kill. I had to kill. Or be killed. This was a mistake. I was supposed to die. He held me tight over his back as he struggled to climb back up the gutter, finally making it to the street with a grunt. I couldn’t see his face, but I could feel his arms. Clutching me. Touching me. My hands wouldn’t listen. I wanted to unfurl them to grasp his puny little neck. Kill him. Kill. I had to kill him. I couldn’t. I was supposed to die. He was supposed to leave me alone. They always left me alone. 

That’s the way this world was supposed to work. 

My vision was hazy, unfocused as everything jostled around me. He was moving quickly down the cobbled streets with my slung over his back like a sack of potatoes. A waterlogged, bloated, skeleton of a corpse. It was ridiculous. Someone had to ask a question about this. A man pulling out a body from a gutter? 

It must have been some old drunk friend of his, I guessed someone would say. Or, it’s his slave, he found it after he ran off. Or perhaps he preferred his bodies cold, that thing certainly didn’t look alive. 

No one questioned it. No one ever questioned it. 

“Stop it…” I croaked. 

“I’m not leaving someone on the side of the road,” He muttered. 

“Bastard…” Looking down at the road and seeing the cobblestones suddenly stop made my head swim. Not that it wasn’t swimming already. 

“Stop talking or people are going to ask questions,” he muttered. 

That was a bluff. He knew that no one would ask questions down here. I’d come here to die when my legs gave out. He came here to hide a little girl he’d stolen away. No one turned their heads. Not at us then, and not now. 

“Let me die,” I hissed. 

“No,” he said. Then he went quiet. He was struggling to lug me over his shoulder, I could tell. As weightless as I was, as useless as I was, he was a weakling. I was a skeleton too heavy for him. But still he walked in jilted patterns, like he wasn’t sure where to go with something like this. Aimlessly dragging around a dead body, like a bloody imbecile, with no reason behind it other than impulse. This is how my life was going to be remembered. As someone’s toy. 

“I’ll kill you,” I growled. The sound made my entire body ache with fatigue. There was no pain, never any pain, but there was a dull, tired throb of something that was meant to die. He was ruining everything. There was no point to this. This was all I would be, and in these last moments, I couldn’t even fight back. After all this time. 

Perhaps it was karma. 

His grip tightened, and I thought I lost consciousness. Everything was so quiet, so dark, so lonesome, I thought perhaps I might have finally gone and died. That would have been a godsend. Then whatever he’d planned for me, I truly wouldn’t remember. I could just leave. God, how I wanted to leave. 

“This world is broken,” I muttered, the delirious continuation of a thought that slipped away from me before I could catch it. Damnit. Still just there. Just barely holding on. God, but I was stubborn. All these years, and my body just refused to give up. I’d spent so many years trying to die. 

He said something, just under his breath. A mutter, an oath. So softly, that only I could have heard it. It was then I knew that I truly was delusional. Because there was no way anyone in this world would ever agree with me. 

“I know,” he muttered. “Believe me. I know.” 

 

…..

 

The warmth of the brazier extended all the way over to the cell. It was strange, to feel warm. The hair on my arm stood on end. My nose wrinkled. It smelled sweet. Soap. I turned to the side, now that was difficult to do. The deep, tired ache kept me from moving too quickly. The overwhelming fresh stench tickled my nose. My hair had been washed. As well as the rest of me. That grime and dirt under every crevice I’d gotten so used to was gone. In it’s place, I was oddly hot. Vulnerable. Pink. I realized too late that my cloak had been ripped from my shoulders. My toes twitched. That fatigue that had been closing my eyes from the moment I’d found that puddle was still there, aching in the back of my mind. It made itself known with every passing though. A low, constant thrum. A quiet, low growl rose in my throat as I tried to find my voice. It was still as hoarse as before. A guttural, animal thing. 

“You’re awake,” a familiar voice echoed. I turned at the sound. My neck protested, but I saw enough. 

A cavern covered in age old claw marks that sent shivers down my spine. I’d been here before. Not in this room, but this system. Beyond this bedroll, this strange place of alcoves was carved into the stone and fitted with bars on the front for cells. In a semi circle, they surrounded a wooden desk pushed up against the far wall with a high backed chair shoved hastily in. Papers littered it, rolls and rolls of scrolls haphazardly strewn across it. It looked like the desk had been brought into this room recently. There were still marks from wear into the dirt floor, leading to an old wooden door beside it that was barely on its hinges. Beside it, a bedroll lay. It seemed out of place against the old desk and chair, but it was well used. 

The man wasn’t at his station. He was watching me. Crouched in front, his quill still in his hand. 

I hissed at him when my voice failed me. Struggled onto my haunches. Felt the harsh dirt on my palms as I turned my back to the wall. Crouched. The bars were thick. I wouldn’t be able to move them even at full strength. That metal chain door to the right of me, maybe I could pick that. But he was still watching me. Not looking away. Not giving me a chance to think. I hated those eyes. Hated them. Wanted to pluck them out. 

“I had to keep you here, sorry. You said you were going to kill me,” he said. 

I was. Shut up. 

I barred my teeth at him and looked for an opening. Any opening. But he was too far away from those bars. I didn’t have the reflexes, anyways. I was stuck here, in this damned cage, for his golden eyed amusement. 

I coughed. 

“I did what I could for the infection.” 

Fuck you. I’ll kill you.

“All we can do now is let time do its work. You’re a noble, it won’t be too long before you can walk again.” He had the gall to smile. “You’re pretty thoroughbred, with hair and eyes like that. You should be fine.” 

I flicked my gaze to his hand when he reached behind. My entire body tensed. Gauging what he intended to do. His eyebrows furrowed in thought as he pulled out my dagger. Mine. Not his. The thief. 

“You had this, right? It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before. Do you want to tell me something about it?” 

I hacked up a laugh, then lunged for it. I knew I wouldn’t be able to grab it. But what I didn’t know was just how weak I was. My body collapsed before I could reach the edge. Even still, he pulled away, almost falling back as he realized the creature he was dealing with. I sneered at him. Maybe now he’d end me, the bastard. 

But then he crouched down again and placed the dagger and it’s scabbard beside him, out of my reach, leaving it there to taunt me. 

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said in a sickening, soothing voice. “I just want some answers, that’s all. The others are scared. Some answers would make them feel a little more at ease, having a noble like you here. It’s difficult for them. They didn’t hear what you told me.” 

My sneer widened. Of course he didn’t want to hurt me. But there were so many different ways I could hurt him. Starting with cutting out those stupid eyes. I wanted to scratch them until there was nothing but gore bleeding out from those messy sockets. He was a stupid noble. Very stupid, if he thought that I cared about if he would hurt me or not. A stupid little Lordling. So cowardly that he fled from a Queen noble near death. With eyes he had no business having. Golden eyes. I hated those eyes. I hated the way they looked on him. They were reserved for parasites with strength, and he was a weak little one. Stupid eyes. Looking at me. Judging me when they had no business doing so.

“If you don’t want to talk, that’s alright. I thought you would have tried, at least. You did before.” 

Begging for death, and you didn’t listen. He was meandering around a point that he wasn’t making and it made my entire body bristle. Annoyed. Was this what he wanted? To torture me? God, I hated nobles. Looking at his face, his stupid neon hair, those disgusting bright eyes. It was the very image of perfection, of a pure, likely incestuous noble that the royals loved to parade around as the standard. He was just another plaything for them, and he didn’t even know it. Maybe he wanted me for a slave, to fuck. I was interesting to him, purely from an objective point of view. Could he not afford one of his own? He could always ask for a loan from his precious royal. Sure they’d be happy to fund a habit like that. 

God, my head ached. I’d never felt so tired. I couldn’t seem to work two thoughts together. The only thing that kept me going was rage.

“What are you thinking about? You’re lost in thought.” 

I glared him down, and chewed on the inside of my gum. There was blood in my mouth. He crossed his legs. But I could tell he was still tensed. Still aware what he was playing with here. The second that cell door swings open, I would kill him. And then all of others he talked of. Whoever they were. I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t care. Every strand of muscle ached, tensed, ready. 

“You can talk if you want,” he said. “I promise I don’t bite.” 

I laughed. I coughed. A wave of dizziness hit me, and when my eyes worked again, they were pressed against the bedroll. I’d collapsed again. I looked up slowly, to see that stupid noble creeping closer, with this worrying look on his face I wanted to peel off with my teeth. He was so stupid. What did he care? He never had to worry about anything. 

“You should rest more,” he said with a stupidly soft voice. “You need it.” 

I snarled at him, and lunged again. I didn’t get as far this time, and this time he didn’t flinch. When I reached out a couple fingers through the bars, my face pushed into the bedroll through the rush of weakness, he didn’t back away. Stupid noble. He must not have even known who I was. What I was. Blind as all of them.

“Alright,” he sighed, and only then did he sit back. “You don’t want to talk anymore. That’s disappointing. Because I wanted to listen.” 

No one ever wants to listen. My hands tried to wiggle through the bars, reaching out for him, for that unprotected neck under that blouse of his, wanting to feel what his Adam's apple was like under my palm as I squeezed him to death. 

“I heard what you said about the Queen. About Wonderland. I’ve never heard that from a noble before. I have to admit, it was refreshing.”

My hand stopped. He looked at it, then at me. 

“You see it, too,” he said. 

My stomach hurt. 

“You know that Wonderland is broken.” 

His eyes were golden. I hated those eyes. 

“I suppose no one has ever let you talk about it before, have they.” 

I went back to trying to push through those bars. Had to ignore him. He was lying. He didn’t know anything. He was clueless. Trying to get me to do something for him. They always did. He was dumb, deaf, and blind. Stupid. Stupid stupid noble. 

He ignore my huffing, panting grunts as I pushed my wrist through the vice of bars, still talking even when I didn’t care to listen. “You saw the truth,” he murmured. “You saw the reality of the world we live in. That Wonderland is dead. I wondered how you knew about something like that.” 

Wouldn’t you like to know. Let me out, so I could rip you limb from limb. 

He leaned forward, and rested his jaw on his hands. “I could feel that hatred when you talked about the Queen. It was intimate. Like you had felt it personally. I didn’t know there were people in this world that could talk like that. All I’ve ever heard is the opposite. That they’re so much greater than us. Better than us.”

Stop talking. No one was allowed to talk about this. That’s not the way the world worked. 

“People don’t like to talk about that, do they?” He said. “They like to pretend that this is the way the world is supposed to be. No one ever picks up a history book and tries to learn the truth. It’s either rubbed away, or ignored. And everyone puts on false smiles and acts like that’s the way things are supposed to be. Even though the things they do are terrible. Or the things that are done to them.” 

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. You’re just a noble. 

“They hide themselves from reality. Lock themselves away. And pretend like the world is perfect. Pretending not to see that what they are doing is wrong.” He frowned. “I know the feeling. I… I can understand why people would try to believe there’s nothing amiss. Because the reality, well… We’re looking at it right now, aren’t we? What happens when we figure it out.” 

“Shut up!” I snarled. I didn’t flinch when my wrist popped out of its socket as I got it through the bars. His eyes widened in surprise. 

“Your wrist-“ he moved closer, and I lunged again, nearly catching his hand that had reached out to me. He backed off again, stumbling on his feet. “Doesn’t that hurt?” 

I simply glared at him, daring him to come closer. 

He sighed. 

“I want to listen to the things you said,” he muttered. “Because you see it, too. Don’t you want to be able to talk about it? Don’t you hate holding it in? Don’t you hate it when everyone pretends that the world is supposed to be this way? That there’s nothing we can do?”

Don’t pretend. Don’t. The truth is not for you. 

You don’t know anything. 

The wooden door creaked open, and the two of us turned at the same time. A girl, brown hair, brown eyes, poked her head in and looked between us. Her lip was red from how much she’d bitten it. With a wide, haunting look, she glanced between us. Her clothes were thick with dust. She was wringing the front of her dress as soon as she realized that he had been speaking.

“Am I interrupting something?” She asked. “I didn’t know she was awake.” 

“No, it’s alright.” The man stood up, shook the dust off his pants, and went over to her with a near imperceptible limp. The edges of my mouth curled. I noticed. “What’s wrong?” He asked. “How can I help?” 

“Angie wanted to see you again.” She kept looking at me with a fear that I knew well. I wondered if I should kill her after, or just run. How many more were in these catacombs? How many would I have to get through to find a way out again? I hated it here. I could still feel that aura. That faint tug to the bowels of the earth, to show me the things I’d already seen. I already knew what we’d done, that guilt was mine to bear as much as anyone’s. “Can we… Can we talk somewhere else? I don’t like the way she’s looking at me.”

The man looked over at me, and I barred my teeth. 

“I don’t want her to feel like we’re hiding things from her. That isn’t going to get her on our side.”

“Are you… Sure, about that?”

He sighed. “What did Angie say?”

“She was arguing with Mary about how much we’ve… Wasted, on her. It’s a noble, Quill. She doesn’t like it. She’s not Sylph.” 

“I understand,” the man leaned against the wall. He was so weak, he couldn’t even stand for long. Pathetic. “But she can come here herself to see that the noble isn’t going anywhere. I did what she asked. I’m not letting her out of my sight. And this is an investment. I know what I heard. If I could… If I just got through to her…” He trailed off awkwardly.

“I told her that,” the girl smiled like a puppy at the soonest opportunity to encourage him. She was performing for him. Her master. It made me want to laugh. “But… You know Angie.” She wouldn’t stop looking at me. I looked through her. “She’s nervous. In her own Angie way. And I suppose I did want to see her too.” She bit down on her lip again. “She’s strange. I’ve never seen someone look like that before. Is that supposed to be Wonderland madness?” 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I haven’t done enough research on that. There’s slim pickings with the scribe’s castoffs. But there’s… There’s something there. Something different with her. And the things she said, Winnie. I’d never thought I’d hear that from another noble. Sylph, well, you know her. And the others.” 

The girl nodded her head as if this conversation had been had many times before. 

“I swore to Angie that if anything went wrong, I’d take personal responsibility. I haven’t forgotten my place here. Did she tell you that?” 

“Amongst the swearing, and the insistence that you go out to look for Ada’s mother next, yes.” 

“Well it’s true. But I know what I heard. And I just need time with her. I want to help Ada and all the rest of the girls, I truly do. But if we can get through to her, maybe she could… Help.” 

“I know. I believe you. I just…”

The two of them looked to me. 

“She looks like an animal,” the human said nervously. “The way she’s looking at you… It’s like prey. She seems more likely to kill us than anything else. She’s rabid.” 

“I know it seems that way, she was…” The man rubbed his forehead. “But there’s more to it than that. If she’d just talk to me.”

“She’s frightening, Quill. She’s listening to us. I told you I didn’t want to talk in front of her. She can hear everything we say. If she gets out, if she goes to the Queen-”

“Winnie, she’s not going to go to the Queen.” His voice was quiet, but stern. “She’s a person, of course she’s going to listen. I want her to listen. I don’t want her to be afraid. I don’t want her to feel like we’re here to harm her.”

“Are you sure about that?” 

“About what? That she’ll go to the Queen?”

“That she’s a person.”

Another deep sigh. He rubbed his face, his shoulders slouching against the wall. “Yes, Winnie. I am certain. She’s been through things. If she doesn’t talk, then I’ll listen to Angie. I promise. As it is, I’ve listened to her in every other way. The last thing I would do is put any of you in danger. I swear, next thing I’ll hear from Angie is that I’m consorting with nobility in preparations for turning all of you in.”

“She wouldn’t!”

“I know, I know…” 

The girl gulped. “But, you did say that she…” She gestured to me. “That she was trying to kill you.” 

“And she is also still recovering, and locked in a cell. She can’t move without collapsing. If she truly believed the things she told me, then I can barely imagine what she’s been through. She was half dead. She’s probably still delusional. I’d understand her threatening me the way she did. If she is mad, if she can’t come back, then… Just… Give her time. Please. That’s all I ask.” 

I narrowed my eyes. 

“I… I will. I trust you, Quill. Even if the others don’t.” The girl smiled, made a move to place her hand on his shoulder, and the man backed away with such suddenness that he nearly lost his balance. It happened in the fraction of a second. I watched intently as her face fell, then grew into a grimace as she nodded her head. She’d made a mistake, it seemed. His eyes were wide as he struggled to maintain his composure. It was strange how terror had crossed his features for just a moment, as though his life were flashing before his eyes. 

“Mary said there would be stew soon,” she said softly. “If you were hungry.” 

He didn’t even acknowledge it. He just nodded his help, forcing out the apprehension, pretending his smile wasn't strained. “Is the Queen noble allowed to have some, too?” 

She reluctantly nodded her head. “Angie said it comes out of your portion.” 

“I’m alright with that.” She wanted to say more. She wanted to acknowledge that rift that she’d touched upon with the slightest tap. 

But she was too afraid. “I… I believe you about her, Quill. But I’m still worried.”

“I know.” 

She bit her lip harder. “Angie wanted to see you,” she said. “Remember to talk to her. Don’t stay in here all the time. We miss you.” Those footsteps, muffled from the dust, tapered off quickly. He closed the door behind her, then relaxed against the wall. His entire body was still shaking. It took minutes for him to calm his breathing. 

I watched intently.

When he turned to me, he was still playing a part. He walked back to me, sat himself down, and tried to smile. 

He was afraid. 

“Do you want to talk?” He asked me. 

I spat in his face, and tore my hand from the cell. 

“Alright,” he sighed, wiping the spittle from his face, and slowly standing back up again. “Well, I’m going to fix your wrist, and then I’m going to get you some food.”

I snarled, kicked at the bars, and made him afraid again.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Muse:  
> Reprise of Hello my Old Heart as well as Still Here:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AObC5VKMdEc
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2C6G3PCpqw
> 
> AND Tomorrow we Fight - Tomee Profitt https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xdrgTAt6Qxs

MARGRET

He always came at me with a blanket. When he’d force me to eat, he’d unlock the cell door with one hand gripping a ragged quilt, and the other clutching the key that I never took my eyes off. Before I could come at him, he’d throw blanket over me, carefully corralling a temperamental animal. I didn’t have the precious seconds to throw it off, nor the strength. He’d tackle the skeletal body that couldn’t fight back to save her life, pinning me near the door with little grace. The two of us would stare at each other, my eyes holding unbridled hatred, and him waiting for my gasps to subside. Once he was certain I couldn’t fight back, he’d grab the stew next to the edge of the cell and force it down in small increments, watching my throat move when there was too much to hold there with the intention of spitting it back out. He was a stubborn ass. Wouldn’t let me waste away. It was out of desperation, really. More than once, I’d already upended bowl after bowl in his direction with a smirk, breathing through my mouth so it wouldn’t salivate too obviously. But this was just embarrassing, this stupid fight of his just to make me eat. I hated this taste, the salty, meaty-ness that I still vaguely remembered from another life. It was too rich now. I threw up the first time he got it down my gullet, right up on his bloody shirt, and then smirked at him after the fact. He didn’t retch in front of me, but I could see his face turn green. I thought that would have gotten rid of the damn fool. I should have known better. 

He started me on broth to make up for my stomach. That, I couldn’t seem to make myself throw up. As much as I wanted to, with him pinning me against the bedroll and making me swallow mouthful after mouthful, his fingers plugging my nose to force my mouth open, I couldn’t help it. It was thin, barely more than water. And as soon as it passed my lips, I craved more. I hadn’t realized how much hunger had gnawed away at my stomach until I began to swallow. The hunger never hurt. That made it easier to ignore. But now that it was there, that it wasn’t a flea infested rat or rainwater in my stomach, I ached. It almost hurt, the cramps this hunger caused me. The strain, the begging for food, I couldn’t fight that. I couldn’t ignore it anymore. 

When I stopped struggling, he relaxed his shoulders just enough. It gave the perfect opportunity to throw the blanket back in his face, to slam him against the dirt, to rip him limb from limb. But I could barely move. I was already stuck here, under this old musty blanket, his body heavier than mine despite the small frame. And the broth was good. More than good, it was golden on my tongue. Bones boiled for sustenance my body desperately craved. I’d wanted to be a ghost for so long, to not need anymore more than my own hatred. I hated how much my body wanted to survive, how little willpower I had when it came down to it. 

When that broth was gone, half of it spilled onto the floor of the cell and the front of both of our shirts, he’d be gone as quick as he could, the blanket torn back away and the cell door locked once again. As if it never happened. As if he never had to touch me. And I’d be left there, on the floor of the cell, blinking blearily at him and still tasting the liquid that had puddled on my chin. Wanting to throw up. Confused. Angry, not sure at what. 

And then he’d start bloody talking again. 

“You don’t feel pain, do you?” He said when he popped my wrist back into its socket. I only flinched at the sudden change in pressure, and the shock from not knowing when it was coming. “I was worried before. But I suppose it makes sense. I’m not sure many would be able to get to your state of starvation without that pain debilitating them. You should have shut down ages ago, with what you had. Or all those scars, they look like accidents. Like you couldn’t feel it.” 

I didn’t dignify that stupid observation with an answer. Let him guess what he wanted. He seemed to like talking to himself anyways. I wasn’t sure sometimes if he was actually looking for answers to the things he talked about, or if he liked to hear himself talk. He’d spend hours asking questions, when he wasn’t at his desk reading or scribbling away, but he never really spent too long waiting for me to answer. He’d pause of course, as if he still had hope that I would answer him. But then he just kept going. It didn’t matter what about. He needed someone to talk to. He was better off chatting to that human girl. 

He liked to pretend that he knew what he was talking about when he agreed with me that the world was over. Maybe he had seen the petrified garden, or even spoken with that strange man that lived at the bottom of it. For all I knew, he’d even dealt with the Queen herself. But that didn’t matter. For all of the hot air he blew, it was still meaningless. He didn’t get it. He could be faced with the reality of it all, even come to conclusions that sounded right, and he still wouldn’t understand it. That was the nature of Wonderland’s reality. If he really got what I did, then he wouldn’t be here. He’d be killing me, himself, or anyone he could get his hands on. And he would be right. 

Sometimes he asked about the dagger. My dagger. The question of its color, of its origin, of how I had something so expensive and such an heirloom. The whorls in its design, its shape, all of it was singular in make. It didn’t look like it was meant for actual harm, he kept saying. It was too dull to inflict damage easily. Too pretty, when one looked close enough. It was meant for ceremony, or some kind of display, not ergonomic. I could see the understanding slowly come upon his features as he realized what it took to wield a blade like that. It was dull, which made every stab tear your victim to shreds, pain-filled, but on both ends. Something that wasn’t meant to be wielded inherently fought the wielder every step of the way. That solved the mystery of why my hands were so broken and couldn’t open all the way. When you compound that with the strangely hypnotic color, the blade becomes something almost as mysterious as me. He asked me questions that I didn’t have the answer to, nor did I feel inclined to know. Where had that dagger come from? A girl, under mysterious circumstances. Who made it? How was I supposed to know? He was talking in circles. I wished I had the energy to slam into the cage again. It was just an evil little knife, tinged with the strange purple metal that made it look poisonous. Maybe it was. 

He didn’t like to touch it much after that talk. It seemed to call to him the same way it did me, but I heard it clearer than he ever could. It was as loud as the voices that called to the bottom of this hell hole. 

Whenever we talked about him though, he was vague. Never said anything about where exactly we were, who he was, who those people were that visited him occasionally from the door. I could guess things. The more food I had, the less delirium in my system, and I knew he was just a little coward. He didn’t control the girls. If anything, he was controlled by them. They asked him for things, and he got them for those precious little humans of his. He was one of the few people of them that could be on the surface without questions being asked, I supposed. No one questions an unattended noble. But as to who he was, exactly, that I couldn’t fathom. A Lord noble as thoroughbred as him in the Capital, instead of the Lord’s court? He was a mysterious creature, almost as much as me. 

I still held that prize, though. I did nothing but glare him down, stalk the small confines of my cell, and look for ways to kill him. He wasn’t getting anything out of me. 

I kept telling myself that I would end him as soon as I was strong enough. That as soon as he gave me an in, I’d be there to snap his neck with my own two hands. And he had quite the slender neck, with that adam’s apple, flecked with brown freckles that reached all the way to his ears. A mouth that was set in a firm line and never shut up. A soft yellow blouse covered in dust and inkblots. He was thin. Weak. The very epitome of what people looked for in a Lord noble they wanted to subjugate, if not for that average face of his. And he had that little limp that was unnoticeable to all but those that looked hard enough. 

Sometimes I felt I looked too hard. 

I always woke up staring at the desk. I spent so much time sleeping. Healing. I hated it. Unconsciousness brought vulnerability that I couldn’t afford to lose. There was no telling when he might move from his perch where he whiled away the hours by those scrolls he looked at with such scrutiny.

He washed me down every week to keep the stench of infection away, with a bucket of soap and water and a sheer force of will. But between relieving myself and eating, it was bound to be needed. At least in his eyes. I couldn’t have cared less. I braced myself every time he swung that door open. More than once, I toppled that bucket of soap over with a well placed kick and sent him cursing and going for another. Invasive. I didn’t like the way he acted like he could do what he wanted with me. I suppose I didn’t help it with my behaviour. I didn’t want to. I knew that I had to kill him, to get out of here, to run and get out of this damned rabbit hole the minute I could. Go back to the way things were, maybe, until I ran out of time again. 

But I never seemed to get the chance. He always pinned me to feed me, to bathe me, to make sure that I wasn’t about to attack him when he was grabbing my bedroll to clean. He wouldn’t let me go with dirty clothes no matter what I did. I tried to bite him and he just grabbed a handful of hair and dropped my head down. I tried to punch him, and he’d simply sighed and held down my weakened arm until I decided I was better off just letting him finish washing. I couldn’t stand on my own. Even the times I sat up to glare at him through the bars of the cage, it felt like weakness overtook me in the end. 

Then he’d return and do it all over again, treating me like a porcelain doll he could undress when he pleased. Cleaning me and feeding me like some animal. It was true that I could barely do it myself. That didn’t mean that I wanted it to be done. When he pulled at my clothes and washed me with all the mechanical touches of a servant, I still bit down hard on my tongue until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. 

The first time, I could tell he was strained. 

I was, too, strained with the intention of socking him in the stomach and watching him double over in pain. 

He kept his eyes on everything but me at first, but that didn’t help with what he was trying to accomplish. He had to see me to wash me, and that brought with the issue of a naked woman in front of him. He was afraid. It was pitiful. I still flinched at every touch and shied away from his supposed pure intentions, but he, he was a different story. He was flustered. Blushing. Nervous. He kept things as polite as he could manage. He still ended up doing what he set out to do, though it took a while for him to get used to it. Me. But I guess he started to focus on the scars rather than the curves that held them, and that’s what got him through it. He looked at all of me with a questioning glance at each of the markers of the things that had happened to me, but for once he kept his mouth shut about them. It was the only thing I could thank him for.

The next time, he got a little faster. A little less caring about what he was touching. I didn’t give myself a chance to care. All tension and visceral heat were the only thing I knew, no matter how much soap he chucked over my head. I hated any kind of ogling, no matter how gentlemanly he tried to be. I couldn’t stop it, but I could make it difficult. 

But the monotony and close proximity were the nail in the coffin. Eventually, the jilted movements of washing became practiced and simple. As much as I tensed, fought against them, and growled at every opportunity, he just kept moving. In and out, twenty minutes of him knowing me more intimately than anyone ever had, and treating it with all the novelty of a comfortable shirt. He made it work. Eventually, whatever vulnerability I might have had left faded too. It was just another scheduled part of this torturous existence. I got used to his touch, and he got used to me. 

Once, in a state of delusion, I tried undressing in front of him. I threw the clothes at the bars and dared him to come closer and force them back on. Here I was, nude, an animal. I was going directly against what he wanted. Maybe I could drudge up some of that nervousness he used to have. I didn’t have much of a plan. I was angry and without a plan. I didn’t want to wear clothes. And he was afraid of this, right? Don’t think I didn’t see the way he acted around those girls that showed up occasionally to ask where the hell he’d been these past weeks. Don’t think I didn’t forget his own fear when he washed me. At least, there used to be. 

Be scared, damnit. React. Let me out so I could break your back. 

I glared him down and waited for him to say something. 

“What are you trying to accomplish?” He’d just asked me. He looked at me with furrowed brows. The stern look of a parent dealing with a delinquent child. It was far too late. He already knew everything about me. There was nothing left to be embarrassed about. With either of us. Neither of us cared. I realized how little I reacted to him. How little he reacted to me.

I was growing sick of this place, day by day. Grabbing the clothes, I retreated to the corner of the cell to sulk. 

I didn’t react the next time he bathed me. He did exactly as usual, but he paused when he realized I wasn’t fighting back. I didn’t even growl when he pulled my hand back to get under my arms. There was no point. 

“Are you going to do it yourself?” He asked me. “Then I wouldn’t have to be so invasive.”

I didn’t respond. He waited for a moment as he always did, then went back to washing me with movements that were arguably gentler.

He kept his grip when he fed me. His knees were always firmly planted in my stomach. But this time he was lighter. I could feel it. But I didn’t react to it. I didn’t spit it at him. I didn’t try to upend the broth back onto one of the same shirt that I’d already stained countless times. I just glared up at him, swallowed, and waited for this to be over. If this was torture, then I suppose I only made it worse for myself by fighting back. 

“Do you want more?” He asked me when he was done. 

I gripped the blanket he’d thrown on me, and turned away from him. 

Let this be over. Let me die.

He gave me another bowl, and I swallowed that down too. 

He found himself often at the edge of my cell, cross-legged and talking to me again, a few days later. It was the usual conversation, the same questions that he asked about me, my history, my family, my life, and how exactly I ended up in that puddle on the side of the road. I cared little about this cyclical topic. But it was a break for him from whatever he did across the room, and whatever those human girls asked of him. 

“I dream sometimes, that you talk to me,” he’d say. “I imagine your voice a little less gravelly, a little calmer, and I think of the conversations we might have.” His face would fall. “I wish that you felt safe enough to talk to me.” 

And then I’d turn away like I didn’t hear him. 

He rarely left this jail of a room, sleeping on the bedroll beside his desk whenever I found myself passed out in my bed. He seemed to know when I was awake, and I didn’t like the ramifications of that thought. 

This man never stopped working. Obsessive, I thought. How many hours did he spent looking through those pages of notes? How many days did he spend, leaving for some errand because someone had told him to? Those days I was alone, pacing and waiting for him return with a growing anxiety at the edge of my throat. I slept more for the chance of time to pass quicker, so I wasn’t sure how many hours he’d be gone before I’d see that familiar mop of yellow hair again. A little haggard, a little nervous, but he wasn’t dead. 

I caught myself relieved. It was disgusting. 

I realized that trying to get me to talk was some kind of break for him. It was less an exercise for me and more mental stimulation for him. Sometimes he veered off from the questions and went on for minutes explaining to me some strange concept of his for the philosophical ideas of Alice, expecting me to be interested in this crackpot theory of his. Sometimes he spent an hour pondering my personality and history, trying to patch together little nothings in theories that made no sense. He could never seem to find his words when he spoke with his little human friends, and they certainly wouldn’t have wanted to hear about their religion bastardized with facts. Let alone a noble. Nor, I expect, were they interested in the pet Queen noble he’d kidnapped behind their collective backs. I’d enough of a head now to know what my purpose was. I was his personal brick wall. 

“That’s what I thought, when I first saw this place,” he said. “That it couldn’t be true. It’s so strange how a part of our history can become little more than legend when given enough time. Despite the fact that there are people in this country still ruling that were alive at the same time. It makes me wonder how they managed to hide it so well. Everything became propaganda and mythology in the end because of them. History was written by those that lived long enough to edit it. Do you think all of them sat around a table and agreed to erase their history?” 

I liked to think that it was just noise. But this nonstop talking and asking of questions that rattled my brain, they never gave me a moment’s peace to sink back into myself. I hated his breaks. When he was quiet, I could sink back inside myself and remember that he didn’t let me die. I could be angry. But talking too much was making me remember things I didn’t want to remember. I couldn’t hide and I couldn’t even cover my ears, because that meant he was getting to me. I couldn’t show weakness. 

“What else was true,” he would muse. “The Cheshire cat? The march hare? The rabbit? What happened to the white Queen? Why are there four Royals? Did nobility truly not exist?” 

His name was Quill. Somehow, that thought was hardest to accept. Giving someone a name was as difficult as staying still while he bathed me. 

I wanted to let the questions fade into the background of my mind, but there was where they sat, and marinated, and grew into thoughts and ideas. I didn’t want to think. I thought I’d given up on any semblance of normal thought long ago. My scarred and broken fingers itched where that beautiful knife had once lay, and I wished it were there so I could return to simpler times. Remembering history was too painful and complicated to keep, yet it never seemed to go away. 

I could feel the words on the tip of my tongue, sometimes. Names I didn’t care about. History I didn’t want. I couldn’t believe I thought of answering him. 

Each time, I tried to keep that same look in his direction, waiting for him to be done with this one-sided conversation and to go back whatever he was doing. The only thing that kept me away from those dark ruminations when he went back to his scrolls, were thoughts of him. What was he looking at that required such attention? What did he search for that led him to look so obsessively, at all hours of the day, sleeping only when I did, pulled away only to help those girls he doted on like a perverted big brother? What kind of information was learning that it broke my mind the way it did? I didn’t want to know. I already understood the reality of Wonderland, he didn’t need to add more. He couldn’t get it anyways. He latched onto facts and numbers like they were history lessons. He didn’t understand how much it should hurt. 

I thought he didn’t. 

I thought he was happy. Stupid, and happy. 

He caught me looking over his shoulder. I was trying to see what those damned papers said. Why was he looking over them with a reverential glare, why they were important enough to make him shut up for hours at a time? His and my eyes met, and both of us froze. I felt like I’d been caught in a murder. I fell back a second later, trying to look as uncaring as possible, but he still got up and followed me back to the cage where I couldn’t escape. I pushed back against the rough stone wall, barred my teeth at him, but he knew I must not have meant it. I just wanted him gone. I didn’t like the way he looked at me. He wasn’t smiling like he sometimes did when he talked to me. He was cold, and quiet. 

“They’re old history,” he said as he sat down in front of me. “Alice. The Rabbit Hole. How much of that do you know?” He didn’t expect an answer, but he still waited for me to respond before he spoke again. Wishful thinking. I kept my mouth firmly shut. But his voice was quiet, and somber. He wasn’t truly expecting an answer. 

As I slowly settled down in the back of the cell, pointedly ignoring him, he continued. 

“I’d like to think sometimes that you know more than I ever could,” he murmured. It was a sheepish admittance. He scratched the back of his head as he said it. “You would just open your mouth, and all the mysteries I have would suddenly be solved. Then maybe I could stop feeling like there’s something else I should know, and I could work on keeping people safe.” He paused, and pursed his lips. “It would make things more convenient, I suppose. Then I wouldn’t have to keep clutching at straws like this, using someone’s castoffs. I suppose I’m being useless. No one really needs ancient history like this, especially not the dredges that everyone half knows already. What people want is safety and security. And I’m not very good at that. I should be out there, right now, looking for another family member. Or perhaps finding a way to make more money so that we can afford to feed this many mouths.” 

I said nothing, but my ears strained. 

“The longer you’re here, the less meaning there is in saying nothing about myself.” He sat back in the dust, trailing a finger through it. “You aren’t going anywhere. I know you hate the Queen. What point would there be in keeping it a secret? I never seem to shut up around you. I think perhaps, sometimes I use you more than you use me.” 

I’d drink to that.

“But I’m still afraid of you knowing things. It’s not just me I’m looking out for anymore.” 

He smiled, a faint, sad smile. He looked tired. The corners of his eyes crinkled. He looked so old, lost in thought like that. 

“There’s a lot of people in this world that know the truth, but they don’t have a catalyst to do anything about it. Why would they, when this world is full of hedonistic pleasure? They could have everything they want. Or else, they have nothing to live for regardless.” He paused. “I wonder if it includes me. Do you think?” He looked at me, tilting his head to the side, the question poised motionless in the air. Neither of touched it.

“Do you know what I’m doing here?” He finally asked. “I’m just sitting here, reading the castoffs of philosophers that don’t interact with the outside world, and trying to fill in the blanks that they won’t give me. They don’t interact with any of us. We never see them. The only thing they’ve let us do is share these catacombs as our home, and give us some of their stock so we don’t starve. We haven’t even seen them, just their servant girl.” He shook his head. “I don’t trust them. They’re nobles. All of them. Any moment of any day, they could choose to change their allegiance and tell the Queen that they’ve got a bunch of fugitives down in their caves. They’d stand to gain everything. But what are we supposed to do? We can’t leave. We can’t help but continue to walk along this thin line every day and rely on the kindness of strangers.”

I held my tongue. 

“I’m tired,” he sighed. “I’m tired of not being able to trust people. I know nobles aren’t good. I know humans are… Complicated. If these nobles aren’t going to help us, then why did they bring us here in the first place? How did Sylph know my name? Why are they just letting us in here like there’s nothing more to it than that? What do they gain from allowing us into their mysterious cult? That’s what I wish I knew. Because it doesn’t make any sense. We could have just died out there. We should have. Running away was a fools errand. But they let us in. And now they won’t even dignify us with their presence.” 

Alexander must have really been pissing him off. I mean, he’d certainly pissed me off. If the scribes were anything like him, then I understood his frustration. They acted like they knew everything. And then they proved it by showing they did. He knew my name. That was the most invasive thing. I didn’t like how he knew my name. 

Damnit, I was thinking again. I tried to look uninterested, but he was watching me like a hawk. 

“It’s funny,” he said. He moved closer. “When the girls first came down here, they were awed. It proved something that the Royals must have spent centuries to hide. You don’t seem to care, and normally I’d be used to that. But right now, you look like you’re actively trying to hide that you’re interested.”

I turned further away from him.

“You’re a mystery to me,” he sighed. “An absolute mystery. There was a slight movement, and I just caught him as he gathered his legs up against his chest, holding them tightly as he watched me. “And it makes me wonder what kind of life you’ve led. What happened to make you figure out about the state of the world. To make you trust no one like this, even after all this time. You could have been anything. Maybe you were some faceless noble girl who lived a life of luxury until some man took advantage of you.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. 

“Or maybe you were in a position of power, and saw something you shouldn't.” 

He smiled, a faint, ghostly smile. 

“I know it takes a lot,” he said, as quiet as a mouse. 

I set my mouth in a firm line.

“The kind of thing that causes that breakdown is something I wouldn’t wish upon anyone,” he sighed. “I know that it’s terrible. And it hurts. Yes, it takes a lot.” He closed his eyes. “I know how much it took for me.” 

You weren’t like me. Don’t pretend. You asshole. You wouldn’t be here if you were even close to me. 

“I know what that feeling is, when you’re lying there, because someone hurt you, and your world shattered. You put all your faith into something, and in no more than a second it’s taken away from you. And in that moment, you stop believing in fairy tales.” 

My stomach lurched. He looked up see me curling tightly into myself, shaking and trying to pretend I hadn’t heard what he’d just said. I couldn’t. He was lying. He had to be. He wouldn’t be here if he was like me. He’d be a killer. Everyone who saw knew there was no point to life. Why was he still here? Why was he okay, and I wasn’t?”

“I’m sorry, that you had to end up like this.” 

I tried to look him in the eyes. To stare him down. To glare at him until he would just go away. I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t. I couldn’t even raise my head. I stared hard at the wall, and willed myself to lock everything away. Let me be angry, uproarious, cursing, biting, swearing. Let that rage burn, but for God’s sake, don’t let the pain in. 

“It hurts,” he said softly, like he was spinning a siren’s tale. “It hurts a lot. More than anything in the world. It’s the kind of pain that even you feel, I think. And it probably hurts all the more for that. When everything else is numb, I can only imagine how much agony it can be when your heart breaks.”

I couldn’t see anymore. I couldn’t. There was nothing but moving, crashing waves, and I couldn’t see. 

He was wrong. 

“I figured it out when I realized that the world would never be fair. Not for anyone. Not just for me. And there was nothing we could do would ever change that, if we just stayed where we were. We have to be the actors in our own story, or we’ll be stuck in this angst and never be able to leave it.” He moved closer, too close. “I was near where you were. It was a fluke that I didn’t die. I could have just bled out to nothing on the streets. But someone took me in. I had to put my trust in someone again.” He placed his hands on the cell bars and gripped them tight. “I’m not asking you to put your trust in anything. I can’t make you do that. I’m just asking you to try to understand that there’s a step after madness. There’s a staircase up from the bottom.” 

I held my breath. 

“It’s up to us to not let them win.” 

I closed my eyes. 

“We have to be the ones to make this stop.” 

Closed my hands into fists. 

“If you’d just talk to me-“

“Stop it,” I muttered.

Immediately, he froze. I could feel his eyes on me. I hid my face in my hands and tried not to think about it. Tried to pretend it didn’t exist. Tried to let the madness take me away again. To be free. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t play games anymore. And at that, the pain sent me crashing to the ground. I hid my face in my hands and felt my heart break in two. Everything was falling to pieces. I knew everything again. I couldn’t hide away. This man, this evil, terrible man, had made me remember. Now I couldn’t seem to stop. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

I could feel my throat closing up. I didn’t want to think. He made me think. I hated him. I didn’t want this. 

Those people. Poor, poor Sylvie. The things I’ve done. The things I’ve felt. I wished I could see them as another person, but I remembered everything in such perfect detail. All of those people I’d gleefully ripped to pieces, and for what. An agenda? A philosophy? What had I done? What was I capable of? 

This world had turned me into a monster, and I had let it. 

“Just stop,” I muttered. 

“I can’t stop.” He pressed his head against the metal bars, his eyes too soft. “There’s a part of you that wants to come back from the brink, or you wouldn’t be talking to me right now.” 

“I can’t.” My voice cracked. “I… I can’t.” 

“It hurts. But you have to. Eventually. I’ve had time, people to talk to. Ages and ages. I’m… I’m not sure you have.” 

“You don’t understand what I’ve done.” I hadn’t spoken in so long. My voice was a croak at the best of times, and the soft, silent sobs kept them from being little more than that. 

“You haven’t told me. Even if you did, how could I pass judgement? After the things this world does. It isn’t a logical world, how could it expect a logical reaction?” He said those words like I could believe them. I almost wanted to. They sounded so sweet. They were an excuse. I could grab them, pull them close, use them as armor against the guilt that burned and singed. 

“I’ve killed.” He didn’t flinch. 

“Killing is a terrible thing,” he said. “I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you apologizing?” 

“How far you must have been pushed. I doubt you’ve ever had someone apologize to you. But you can’t change the past. Whatever you’ve done, you can’t let it control you. That’s what your Royal wants.” 

“That’s stupid,” I muttered. “People are dead because of me. Innocent people. Because of a temper tantrum. There’s no… There’s no point. To anything.” 

“You haven’t got anyone to fight for, have you?” 

I couldn’t answer. 

“What’s your name?” He asked me. 

I clutched at my throat, looked up from my curled form, and looked Quill in the eye. 

How could someone look like that. How could someone be so kind. How could someone smile, knowing the reality of the world. It couldn’t exist. It couldn’t be. 

How could someone still be nice to me after all of the atrocities I’d committed. I was an animal. I didn’t deserve this. I just wanted to die. Why couldn’t he have let me die. 

“Margret,” I muttered. 

“A nice name,” he said. 

“My father gave it to me.” 

His smile strained. “And what kind of man was he?” 

“A good one.” 

“Good.” 

The two of us stared at each other. Trying to figure out who the other was. Now that I had a voice, he wasn’t about to let it go. He was staring at me intently with all the strain of a starving man. I probably matched him. I couldn’t help but wonder how he could know the things he did. He said things about me that I didn’t understand. Every movement of our lives, every word he said. I’d come to understand them like an old friend. How could one know each other so easily? How could one understand what the other way trying to say? Who was Quill? 

“Do you want to talk about it, Margret?” 

“It’s been too long.” 

“I know.” He closed his eyes, but he couldn’t help but open them again to see me. 

Curled up like this, with the barrier of metal between us, the two of us couldn’t looking at each other. We weren’t mirrors. We were each other. I couldn’t pretend he didn’t understand it anymore, because all that did was rid me of the guilt that had led me up to this point. I could have chosen the path he did. I could have decided to do something more than live in the despair of knowledge. But I didn’t. And he was rubbing that in my face. It wasn’t his fault, it was mine. And I had to hold that to my breast and accept it.

He was right. It was the past. All of it, the anger, and the hurt and the pain and the insanity. That was the past. 

“It started when I was young,” I said. 

“And no one in the castle would listen,” he responded. 

“And everyone pretended that the world was fine, or else ignored it for fear of what they would find,” I said. 

“And someone told you the world was wrong, and you went along with it because they were the only voice that would acknowledge it,” he continued. 

“And that person led me down a path they knew would end in destruction.” I clutched at my dress.

“And then someone found you,” he finished.

“I’m not a good person,” I argued under my breath. “Your story is better than mine. I did terrible things.”

“I’m not perfect either,” he sighed. 

“You didn’t kill people.” 

“Do you feel guilty?” 

I couldn’t think about too hard. I couldn’t even graze it with my mind. Sylvie. Those people. The families I must have broken. The lives lost out of an idea that was poison. I looked at him with tearstains, and could only nod. 

He smiled back, with tears of his own in his eyes. 

“Do you ever wish you could take everything back and choose a different path?” He asked. “That if you just decided to grin and bear it, there might still be something worth living for? That there could be people out there that would have been there for you, if only you had let them?”

“I had someone that loved me to the bitter end,” I grimaced. “And I killed her.” 

“I had family. People I cared about. I pushed them away.”

I smiled a bitter smile. “How can you have the same life as me?” 

“I don’t know. But I can help. I want to help. I want to show you the way out. If you hate this world, then maybe you can make it change. We can do something about it. You’ve been to places I’ve never been. You were at the furthest reaches of Wonderland madness. If you can come back and show the world what they’ve let happen, if you could even just help me and these people I have now, maybe… Maybe we could find you purpose.” 

“Wonderland is broken,” I muttered. “The gardens are petrified, the royals are mad, and the world is filled with nothing but debauchery and stagnation. No one is trying to fix anything. People die, and no one cares.”

“So change it.” 

“You can’t bring a skeleton back to life.” 

“You can turn it into bone meal and make a garden.” He moved closer. “You can work with what you have. And we can try. What can we do, but try? Die? You were there. Do you think that’s the answer?” 

My throat closed. I couldn’t answer him, because he was right. I hated it, but he was. I couldn’t. I couldn’t think. I held my head in my hands, and quietly cried. 

“Margret,” I heard him murmur. The sound of metal signalled to me that the door to my cell had swung open. Then there were hands around my shoulders, a face against mine, and the calming breathing of someone that didn’t ignore me. 

“You don’t have to die here,” he whispered. “You don’t have to end it all. And you don’t have to run away. I heard the things you said. So let’s change it. Let’s do something.” 

“And if it fails?” I sounded so small. I felt small.

“We won’t live to see it fail.”


	24. Author's Note

 

God help me it’s over.

 

Okay next book will be out soon. I’m writing 1000 words every other day so if it’s like 4000-6000 expect it in a week or two and it’ll be out.

 

Shipping Quill and Margret is now officially dubbed Mcdonalds.

 

We got like a book and a half left. I promise more porn. Maybe. Hopefully. … Possibly.

 

Next book: Politics! Putting the comfort in hurt and comfort! Pining! Ignoring trauma! A lot more candycorn characters! Lore! Bad drunken decisions!

 

Have some shitty art: 

  
  
*laughs in they're not endgame*


End file.
